by Madelyn Hill
Heaven, he thought as he plunged into her. Absolute heaven.
Heat raced through him, being chased by unfamiliar emotion that scared the hell out of him.
A calm rhythm paced his heart.
He loved her.
Vivian looked radiant, her skin aglow with the heat of his touch and the caress of firelight.
She was everything he wanted, however impossibly out of his reach. She’d be prosperous in the future. Especially with a dowry. Galen planned to ensure Robert Stuart’s solicitor shared the details of his client’s will and Galen pledged to secure another union for her. It was his duty to be sure.
Duty, bollocks. His heart nearly tore apart in his chest.
Galen slipped from his bed, from the temptation of her body. He paced, trying to reason away his anguish.
“Galen?”
He turned toward the bed. Vivian sat in naked splendor, her mahogany hair tumbling over her shoulders, gliding over her full breasts. Drawn against his will, he sat on the bed beside her.
Her hand curled around his face, her thumb smoothed over his lip. “What has happened?”
“Nothing, my dove,” he crooned as he lifted her hand and kissed her palm.
He read her eyes. They shadowed with doubt, apprehension. He must allow her to think all was well. For the sake of her tender soul. He’d deal with her hatred after he forced her to leave.
Then Wolf’s Castle would once again be his lair.
Vivian walked dreamily down the corridor and into the nursery. Alex sat up in his crib, sweet and pudgy. He gazed at her with such beautiful innocence; she had to scoop him up in her arms. “Oh, Alex, what a precious bundle you are.”
He giggled when she twirled him around. Laughing, Vivian sat in the rocker and set him upon the rug. He tugged on her skirt, pulling himself to standing. She clapped her hands as he smiled a grin at his accomplishment. Oh, how he tugged at her heart. She longed to cradle him in her arms and gobble him up.
She wanted a few just like him and a couple of girls thrown in for balance. As long as they had the thick, black hair of their father and his dark blue gaze.
Vivian allowed the fiery memory of their lovemaking to drown her with pleasure. Galen loved her. She felt it, saw it, caught his surreptitious glances when he thought she wasn’t aware. Each time he caressed her, she thought she would explode with wanton desire. Heat rushed up her face as she remembered the hard length of Galen’s body against her own.
“So you’re here again, are you?”
Startled, Vivian looked up. Madge stood in the doorway, irked for some reason or another. “Aye. I just wanted to see Alex.”
“I’ll have you ken, Laird Maclean gave me leave of this wing. So, if you’ll please, I desire a wee bit of time with me son.”
Flustered, Vivian struggled to think of what to say. “I meant no harm. He is just so dear and I had no siblings at Westington.”
Madge sat on the rug near Alex. She distracted him with a toy block and glared at Vivian. “And you have none here.”
The hostility in Madge’s tone confused her. Hadn’t all been well since Galen had virtually bequeathed the east wing to her and Alex? Surely she held no grand illusions that Galen would replace his father in her bed?
Comprehension dawned on her. Madge’s behavior meant she kenned of the change in Vivian’s relationship with Galen.
Madge still felt threatened.
Vivian touched Madge’s shoulder. “Madge, you have no reason to fear me. I would never request for you to be turned out.”
The maid bristled. Alex sensed this and his lip curled into a pout. Madge patted him and cooed something under her breath, all the while never removing her hardened gaze from Vivian. “You think he’ll keep you here? He’ll tire of you and your niceties. ‘Tis a heartier woman needed to still the devil in the Maclean men.”
“Devil,” she scoffed. “The devil no more resides in Galen than in wee Alex.” She kenned this in her heart. No matter, Madge’s intense glare forced gooseflesh to erase any heartwarming thoughts of Galen’s touch. “Don’t view me as the enemy. All I wish is to help Galen. Make him see he is a worthy of love.”
Reluctant admiration hovered for a moment on Madge’s face as she lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “And when he realizes this, you’ll leave him?”
Vivian hesitated and looked away. “Aye.”
Madge stood drawing her attention. The maid tipped her head in a haughty manner. “I think you see Laird Maclean as a cause to make you feel good. You ken nothing of the hardships on this blasted isle. Fiercer weather than you have ever seen is still yet to come. Can you forsake all you have kenned at Westington and live here amongst so few?”
She would have laughed, but Madge seemed so intense she thought better of it. The inhabitants of Lomarcan outnumbered Westington ever so slightly and Vivian had grown to love them all, even the impertinent Madge. Why, she’d had more interaction with the people on this isle than she ever had in all of her twenty years at Westington.
Vivian sighed and rose from the rocking chair. For a few moments all they heard was the creak of the runners swaying back and forth. She searched her memory to discover when she became determined never to leave the castle. It wasn’t a conscious decision but one she did not question.
“Alex needs to be fed.” Madge picked up her son and started to leave the room. “You’ll not survive here. Too gentle you are.”
Vivian thought of her father’s death, the journey to Lomarcan. And the harsh reality of the wolf’s lair in which she had no desire to leave.
Gentle?
“No,” she said aloud. “I’m stronger than anyone has ever realized.”
She left the chamber. She needed him. She needed Galen.
Chapter 34
The Lady of the Moon held her hands out to him. A halo of blinding light surrounded her. A flowing gown entwined with gold stitching whipped around her legs as if a harsh wind were stirring. Her skin, so pale he could see through her, contrasted with her dark green eyes. Wispy hair curled around her face in a cloud of blonde.
Donal grasped her hands, then moaned as the infusing power heated him. He’d prayed relentlessly for her to grant him his wish. He reached for the crucible next to her, suspended in the air, boiling with thick, rich gold.
Power.
The Lunar Lady nodded and released his other hand. “Take this gold,” he heard her say, though her lips never moved. “I grant it to you.”
The ultimate gift filled his hands. She smiled and fell out of focus.
Donal smelled the liquid metal. He’d have great wealth, but more precious was the power he’d now wield.
A power he’d use to crush his father’s lingering hold over him. And Madame, she’d not have cause to berate him further.
She would—
“Get up, you worthless baggage.”
Donal stirred and groaned. The lady of the moon’s voice turned from a soft whisper of honey to a harpish snap. His muscles ached from the intense ritual he’d conducted in his dreams. But his discipline would bring him the authority, he thought dreamily.
“Burke.”
He bolted upright. Wiping the sleep from his eyes, he registered Madame’s threatening posture. He rose from the small settee she allowed him to doze on, grabbing a woolen blanket to cover himself.
She pointed to the door. “We’ve wasted enough time. Get ready. The rower is here.”
He nodded, undaunted by her growl as he pulled his pants on. The woman had no shame, he thought, watching him with those all-seeing cat eyes.
He began fastening his boots, now eager to get his hands on Robert Stuart’s books. His dream laid a breath away. The thought of solving the riddle urged him to quicken his pace. His dream of the lady of the moon had foretold his success.
“I’m ready,” he said.
She lifted an elegant brow. “So I see.” She strode from the room, confidence pacing her steps. As she secured a fur stole over her mantel, she turned towar
d him as if he were a disobedient child. “Don’t dawdle, Burke.”
He had no intention of doing so.
Chapter 35
They arrived safely on the island and, with no help from the rower, dragged their luggage through a dank cave and up stone stairs.
“And who in blue blazes are you?” demanded a female voice.
They turned simultaneously to see a slip of a lass standing with a bravado Donal applauded. Her fist nested firmly at her waist and the height of her raised brow gave her a confident stature well beyond her small frame.
Madame smoothed her traveling gown in a slow, reassuring manner. He watched her mask her features before she lifted her gaze to the wee scrap of a woman.
Not that she wasn’t a worthy adversary. Though she barely reached his shoulders, her ire hummed about her taut body.
Madame smiled graciously. “Why, didn’t Laird Maclean tell you to expect us?”
The girl, a maid he assumed by her serviceable wool clothing, tipped her chin haughtily. “Nothing goes on in this castle I don’t ken.”
“My dear, I’m certain that is the truth of it. Laird Maclean must have neglected to tell you.”
Fascinating, Donal thought, how Madame melted so easily from one situation to another.
Tension slipped from the hard line of her shoulders, though wariness remained in her gaze.
“This way, then.” She turned and led them down a steep narrow corridor. As it widened, the hard stone floor flowed into runners of thick wool. Candle sconces illuminated portraits framed in tarnishing gilt.
Madame nodded toward Donal, then spoke to the maid. “Lass, we need help with our luggage.”
She looked aggravated as ire once again skittered over her face. “It can wait. Bernard will see to it later.”
The maid’s gaze bounced from him to Madame and back again. Comprehension lit her eyes as she frowned and attempted to back up. Donal swept her into his arms with ease despite her futile efforts to thwart him. Her arms flailed and she posed a fierce kick to his shin.
“Who are you?” she screamed.
Madame coolly regarded her with disdain. “Not to worry. You’ll come to no harm if you do my bidding.”
The lass bit into his forearm.
“I’ll not be helping the likes of you.”
Madame raised a shoulder. “We’ll see, we’ll see.”
He wrestled the maid into a small chamber off the corridor. He dumped her onto the roughly hewn floor and tried to secure the door. The hell cat leapt onto his back and began pulling at his hair.
Anger ruled him as he batted her with his arm, knocking her squarely on her arse. “Stay,” he commanded, his voice threatening enough that the girl looked at him with a wary gleam in her eyes.
“So you have a tongue. Laird Maclean will no’ take kindly to this. Let me go and I’ll tell him you helped me.”
Smiling, he leaned against the strong door, now locked from within.
Hope fled from her countenance, as she seemed to grope her mind for another tactic. He had to credit her for the depth of her fortitude. Many women would have swooned into oblivion by now.
“What’s your name, lass?”
She inspected him suspiciously. “Madge.”
He tucked his arms around his chest. “Ah, and your position here?”
“I’m a maid. Second in command, I am.” She slid back against the wall and felt her way to a chair. Once she settled herself, she resumed looking at him with utter contempt.
“Very impressive. A castle this size must boast a large staff.” His information stated the opposite was true, but he wanted to test the maid’s veracity.
Madge shrugged as she shifted her brown eyes to the carpet. “There are four of us.” Her voice was so soft, he barely heard her.
Donal laughed, surprising himself with the merriment of the sound. It had been too long since he’d found any matter worth laughing about.
“Burke,” Madame shouted as she rapped on the door, “Let me in.”
Used to her commands and the nature that prompted them, he opened the door without haste.
Her anger assailed him with such intensity, he stepped back. “What is going on here?”
“Nothing, Madame. The lass was telling me of her position in the castle.”
She spared him a withering glance as she strode to the girl. “Stand.”
The maid complied.
“We’ve need of your help.” She circled the girl as she tapped her lips in concentration. Donal was most surprised when she placed her hand on Madge’s shoulder and gently brought her over to a settee. Dusty, but ‘twas more comfortable than the wooden chair. “I can see you know the castle well. There is something we need—”
“Madame, do you think we should be telling her?”
She turned toward him, all amusement gone from her expression. “I’m in charge,” she snapped. As quickly as her anger flared, it receded. “Now, lass. There’s a lady in residence. Miss Vivian Stuart.”
Madge grunted. “Lady, why, I’m more a lady than she.”
Madame smiled, one Donal kenned as wicked, not sincere. “I can see her presence has caused you distress,” she said and leaned down as if she held some conspiratorial secret. “She was to marry Donal Burke and was whisked away by her wretched maid before he could claim her.”
The girl snared him with a look from his head to his toes. Sensing her doubt, he stepped forward. “I worked with her father. I left to post the banns and when I returned, they had fled.” He lowered his head and attempted to sound dismayed at the turn of events. “We’ve come all this way to find her. I love her so. But. . .we are afraid she’ll run again.”
“You see, lass, ‘tis of the utmost importance Miss Stuart not know we are here.” Madame wrung her hands, adding extra emphasis to their mission. “After we take her with us, then you can live in peace.”
“Peace,” Madge said with a smile.
They had lured her in, Donal thought. For the first time since he’d begun his unholy alliance with Madame, he felt a shimmer of confidence.
A triumphant smile creased Madame’s face. “Now, let’s see what we will be needing. Hmmm. . . food, blankets, candles. Think, Burke, anything else?”
He shook his head, afraid to speak and perhaps say something to displease his employer.
“You stay here and I will bring it all to you.” Madge paused at the threshold. “You promise to take her from here? And never return?”
Donal covered his face to stifle a grin. Madame swept forward and gathered the maid’s hands into her own. “You will never have to worry about her again.”
The maid looked joyous as she curtsied and left the chamber.
Madame sighed. “That proved easy enough.” She raked Donal with undisguised contempt. “Not that you helped any. I should have left you in Inverness.”
Donal took a clumsy step away from her, tumbling a chair in the process.
“See,” she screeched. “You’ve the sense of an ox.”
He took refuge on the same settee Madge had sat on just moments before to stay out of her way.
“Get up, you oaf! We have plans to make.”
Chapter 36
Galen tucked Vivian snugly into her bed. He stood by her, relishing her vibrant beauty. He tugged a chair near the bed and watched her sleep. Her hand slipped from the blankets and hung over the edge of the canopied bed. He grasped her hand and kissed her soft skin. He closed his eyes and rubbed her hand against his cheek. The depth of his love for her assailed him. So potent he cleaved to her hand as if it were his lifeline.
“My dove,” he whispered. “You have brought life to me. I shall never love another as I love you.”
He tore himself from her side. After tucking her hand beneath the covers, he retreated into the corridor. As he stepped over the threshold, he glanced back at her. The woman who, in her innocence and intellect, had taught him the lessons of love.
Soon he’d be bringing tears to her eyes and h
atred to her heart.
Vivian awoke, wary of where she lay. As she wiped the sleep from her eyes, she recognized her chamber. She felt the pillow beside her. It was fluffed and cold. Galen was gone.
She had hoped he would have stayed. Her fanciful ideas of snagging his heart began to wither. Rising from her bed, she dressed with haste and headed down the hallway. The memory of their lovemaking urged her to further pledge her cause. She gave herself a fortnight to convince Galen not to send her away when weather permitted.
She shook her head at her own foolishness. No, she’d fight to the end. Meanwhile, she’d continue assisting him in the lab and other aspects of his life.
First, she must replenish the supplies he used the night before. If she kenned him as well as she thought, he’d be in his study repeating the experiment that haunted him.
Her steps echoed on the stone stairs to the storage chamber in the lower level of the castle. The small torch in her hand only granted her a slight halo of light, casting menacing shadows. She lifted the iron latch on the door to the supply chamber and pushed her weight against the hewn wood. With a reluctant groan, it opened.
Holding the torch before her, she walked with trepidation into the enormous chamber. She cringed as her free hand cut through the cobwebs weaved across the room. She scowled at the thought of how many spiders it took to continuously revive the webs each time Galen came for supplies.
Finding a stubby candle on the shelf near the door, she lit it and continued on to the other waxy puddles that held a wick. Soon there was enough light to read the sketchy handwriting on various bottles and crucibles. Vellum bags protected some minerals and she soon found all she needed.
After securing the elements in her apron pocket, she blew out the candles and left the disturbing chamber. Hair still pricked along her neck and a new disquiet assaulted her. It was as if ghosts lurked about. Maybe Laird Alexander Maclean was still trying to find the secret of turning lead into gold.