by Temple Hogan
“Has she been back?”
“Nay,” Jean answered.
“Order some hot water at once,” Annie said and threw aside the cover to look at his bandaged side.
Briefly, she noted that someone had stripped away his clothes and he lay naked, his side swathed in the bloodied, oozing bandage. After a quick, involuntary glance at his nude body, she concentrated on the wound, carefully stripping away the stinking, pus-filled cloth. The hot water came, and she bathed the wound and examined the swollen, pallid flesh. Fresh water was boiled, and she threw herbs into it then soaked cloths in the brew and laid them steaming hot onto the festering wound.
“Annie,” he whispered.
Then he moaned and twisted away, but she persisted and with each application, he reacted less, but he continued to call her name like a mantra. When at last she was done, he lay sleeping. His fever seemed to have abated. A maid came to take away the bloody water, and Annie straightened the bedclothes and rearranged the pillows. Finally, she settled on a stool beside his bed and watched over him. Occasionally he stirred and called her name, but his rest seemed more peaceful.
Sometime during the night, her shoulders sagged with exhaustion so that she let her head settle on the pillow next to his and gave in to the sleep that claimed her. When she woke, sunlight was streaming through the shuttered slats of the window. With a start, she sat up and found herself gazing into a pair of stormy gray eyes.
“Who are you?” he gasped. There was no sign of recognition in his face.
“I’m Annie,” she answered. “You sent for me.”
He lay back against the pillows, his expression one of puzzlement then he shook his head in denial. “You’re not the Annie I remember.”
Gare entered the room, and Rafe regarded him somberly. When he made no greeting, Gare moved closer.
“You’re awake, Rafe,” he cried exuberantly. “Christ, man, we feared we’d lost you in the night.”
Rafe simply stared at him.
“Don’t you know who I am, lad?” his friend asked. “’Tis me, Gare. And this is Annie, the one you’ve been calling for in all your fevers. She’s the one who saw you fall on the battlefield and led the men to rescue you. Without her, you’d be a rotting corpse by now.”
Rafe’s troubled gaze turned back to her. He studied her for a long moment and she saw a dawning shine in his eyes.
“Annabella,” he whispered, his face flooding with joy. “I’ve found you.”
“Nay, ‘tis Annie, the goose girl,” Gare corrected him.
Rafe’s looked confused. “But you can’t speak.”
“’Twas the shock of seeing you wounded, you great lump,” Gare said jovially. “She was able to tell the guards where to find you.” He smiled at Annie warmly. “She’s a bonnie lassie.”
She saw the moment Rafe made the connection, just as he had before the battle began. He remembered everything now. His gaze captured hers, and she couldn’t look away for the emotions on his face.
“Aye, she’s been a good friend in more ways than I realized,” he said softly.
“I must go,” she said, turning away from him. “You have servants who can care for you now, and I have my own chores to do.”
“Nay, lass.” His voice was soft and ragged, almost pleading. “I want you here with me.”
“I must go tend to the Father’s needs,” she answered, shying away from his compelling gaze.
“Let her go do her duties, Rafe. She’ll come back. In the meantime, I have much to tell you about the battle, Baen and your uncle,” Gare said, but Rafe’s attention was pinned on Annie.
“Will you come back?” he demanded, his eyes dark with emotions she couldn’t discern.
Helpless to deny him, she looked from Gare to the man in the bed. “Aye, I’ll be back, if you want me.” She hurried from the room then, her head averted, running down the stairs past a startled Dianne and Jean and out of the castle.
Silvered dew-sheeted tufts of grass and the morning air smelled of the sweet meadows. The sun rose over the rim of Oban, reflecting off the stone walls of the castle and spilling its golden light over the village like a special blessing. Annie felt her heart lift. Rafe was alive, and he would recover from his wounds. He was a kind-hearted man, and she felt certain he wouldn’t punish the whole village for what Bryce had done. As for Alyce, Annie must find a solution for that. Perhaps she’d send Alyce away.
In the days that followed, Annie went every day to the castle where she personally tended Rafe’s wounds and brought his food from the kitchen. She made no mention of the reason for her diligence, but she observed Gare watching her and knew he hadn’t forgotten that someone had poisoned Rafe. Gare shared her same fears that somehow, someone would succeed in murdering the Campbell warrior.
“You must tell him the truth,” Jean urged her. “He has the right to know who you really are.”
“What difference would it make?” Annie said.
“He loves you,” Jean said disapprovingly. “And you play with his heart.”
“No, but truly, I’m fearful,” Annie replied.
“Of what? That he won’t love you because you’re a MacDougall. He has no grudge against your clan. Rather it’s the other way round. Tell him or I shall.”
“You would betray me?” Annie looked at her friend and found her answer in the intelligent eyes.
“Yes, I would,” Jean said, but Annie knew she wouldn’t.
One day as she sat quietly at Rafe’s bedside, he called her by the name he’d used at the pool.
“Annabella,” he said softly. “Tell me the truth about yourself.”
“You know all about me,” she hedged.
“Jean tells me there is more to your story, and I would hear it.”
“’Tis best left unsaid,” she replied evasively.
“Are you the daughter of Ewan MacDougall?” His eyes held a hard, determined light.
Annie’s head jerked up and disappointment coursed through her. “Jean told you, then?”
Rafe shook his head. “Lying here in this blasted room, I’ve had a lot of time to think, and it’s the only thing that makes sense. Why did you pretend to be a goose girl and live the way you did?”
“Father Cowan, who was and is a priest, thought it safest for me. The Campbells were wild with blood thirst, even Archibald. I saw him kill my father and behead him.”
Rafe cursed and pulled her onto the bed beside him. His arms closed around her protectively. At first, she held herself stiffly, then the warmth of him, the familiar exciting smell of him got through her defenses, and she sank against him.
“Never again will you be hurt or humiliated,” he whispered. His mouth claimed hers in a kiss that was protective and possessive. “You belong to me. You’ll be my wife and no one will ever do you harm.”
“I don’t want you to marry me out of pity,” she protested. “Besides, I fear what repercussions might occur if I were to wed you. Look what Bryce and A—” She clamped her lips together. She’d almost spoken the midwife’s name.
“I know who tried to poison me,” he said, looking at her.
“But how?”
“I told you. I’ve had days to think this through. I’ve sent the woman to a position with MacIntyre. She’ll have no reason to do mischief there.” He smiled at Annie with some little show of pride that he’d handled things so well.
“I’ve also sent out word that there’s to be a wedding and that I’m to marry Lady Anna MacDougall. My uncle’s will shows he left me this castle and lands for services rendered and because he had no other legal heirs. What do you think of that?”
“If Dunollie’s to stay in Campbell hands, I’m glad it’s you,” she said. “But I can’t marry you.”
“Aye, you will. There’s no pity in this arrangement, Annie, love. I desire you for my bride. Dunollie will be restored into the hands of the MacDougalls and our sons will inherit it. A rightful enough inheritance wouldn’t you say?”
Annie gazed
at him and suddenly felt her eyes tingle as tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Why, Annie, I’ve never seen you cry before.”
“I never do,” she replied, half-laughing as she wiped at the tears that wouldn’t stop flowing. “Is it really true, all that you’ve said? Can it be that simple?”
“Annie.” He breathed her name and pulled her against him.
His kisses were warm and soothing at first then quickly turned more passionate. Annie felt a fire flare within her as she returned his passion. He rained kisses over her cheeks and throat and back to her mouth, and all the time, his clever hands unfastened her clothing. He allowed her to sit only long enough to pull her shift over her head.
“We can’t,” she protested. “You’re not recovered enough.”
“I am,” he said simply with an air not to be argued with.
Suddenly the door swung open, and Gare entered with Dianne close behind.
“Have you heard—”
“Get the blazes out of here,” Rafe shouted.
Gare paused then chuckled as he took in the scene. Dianne let out a yelp of dismay.
“Come, m’lady,” Gare said. “We aren’t needed here now.” The door closed firmly behind them.
“Now, where were we?” Rafe said, reaching for her again.
He ran his hands over her bare breasts while he kissed her until she was breathless, then lowered his head to kiss her breasts. Annie writhed in ecstasy. Rafe stripped away her stockings and caressed her thighs. His hand dipped, parting her legs, searching for the moist core of her. She sighed with pleasure and reached for his penis, wrapping her fingers around its hard length. He gasped when her thumb brushed gently over the tip of his bulb.
“I’ve missed you, my beauty, my Annie,” he whispered as he lowered his head and tasted her.
His tongue laved her clitoris and dove deeper. She moaned and opened her knees wider. He licked again and again until she cried out with her release. Then he rose above her and slid his shaft inside her. She caught her breath as another spasm racked her senses. He waited, moving slowly and rhythmically. When her cries died away, he increased his strokes until she feared she couldn’t bear another climax, then it washed over her, more powerful than any she’d felt before and she put her arms around him and hung on as paroxysms of sensations shook her.
Sometime later, when their muscles had begun to relax, but they were still connected, Rafe shifted then groaned with pain.
“You’ve hurt yourself,” she cried.
He raised his head and looked at her with a triumphant smile, so she was startled into laughter.
“Ow, don’t laugh,” he said, pulling his cock from inside her, which sent her into more gales of laughter.
“You witch,” he complained, flopping onto the bed, but he still bore the smile of satisfaction. “Ah, Annie, we’re going to have a fine life.”
Lying quietly beside him, she smoothed her hand across his back until his slow, even breathing told her he slept. A fine life. Aye, it would be. She curled herself around him and closed her eyes.
About the Author
Temple Hogan is the author of over forty books, some hard cover, under the name of Peggy Hanchar and Peggy Roberts. She lives on an inland lake in Michigan with her husband, three cats and one naughty Shitz Tzu named Gizz. Her hobbies are cooking, gardening, acrylic painting and reading detective stories. She’s currently at work on her next book.
Temple loves to talk to her readers and can be found at TempleHogan.blogspot.com.
Also Available from
Resplendence Publishing
The Reluctant Bride by Temple Hogan
Book One in the Scottish Love Songs Series
Logan MacPherson and his highlander clan have returned from a brutal war against Cromwell’s English forces in which they lost. Now is the time to make peace, but old feuds ignite and threaten to take all Logan values, even the beautiful daughter of an old friend whom he’s pledged to marry and protect.
Cailla MacLaren is no ordinary damsel in distress. While her father is away fighting the hated English, she’s commanded the ragged forces that protect her family home. She’s prepared to die, if she must, to repel Donel Moncrieffe who wants her castle and her body. When Logan whisks her from Tioram, forcing her to travel to his family home, Cluny, and takes her as a country wife, she’s determined to return, with or without Logan’s help. But dark forces are rising against them, and this reluctant bride might get more than she bargained for.
The Centurion and the Queen by Minnette Meador
Marius has been stationed on the island of 60AD Britannia for sixteen years, his demotion from the famous Praetorian Guard to Centurion brought about when he was suspected of involvement in the assassination of Caligula. He is intimately aware of his duty, even when it clashes against the natural compassion he tries to subdue, and he secretly wants nothing more than to get off this accursed island so he can return to his home. Once a celebrated Roman hero, Marius still clings to the old traditions as a fair but tough leader to his men. When Delia enters his life, she challenges everything he believes, effortlessly strips away years of Roman conditioning, and angers him to the point of betraying his training--and his oaths. He simply cannot resist her.
Delia is sister to an indolent Celtic king, but that role has turned to nothing more than another surrender. All she can do now is help her people survive the gradual conquest by Rome and their suicidal pride as so many throw themselves against the unstoppable Roman machine. Fighting desperately to save as many as she can, Delia knows there is no hope for her future. Her training as a warrior and a queen means very little in the wake of a declining civilization, and this beautiful, proud woman has to struggle for every joy. The last thing she expected was to find herself craving the touch of an enemy.
They discover an impossible love, a surprising passion they both thought had died, and something they had never imagined, or thought they deserved. They are thrown into the clash between an Iceni queen with 50,000 angry Bretons and a clever Roman general with only 10,000 legionnaires. Marius and Delia have their lives, their beliefs, and their roles turned inside out as they find themselves fighting on opposing sides, in love, and unable to change the future. The revolution would spark their desire, but nearly destroy them both.
Lady of the Isle by Temple Hogan
From the Sea Series, Book One
From the sea, two tormented souls are washed ashore—one a beautiful, mysterious lady, the other a man who'd once been the King's warrior and is now a lowly fisherman. As Rioghnach and Cormac learn to heal and trust in love again, they spend sun-seared days and starlit nights exploring the need that draws them together.
Beast by Abigail Barnette
Naughtily Ever After, Book Three
Accused of treason by his own father, Prince Philipe of Chevudon finds his flight to safety cut short by an arrow to the shoulder. There is only one person to whom he can turn for help, the only woman he ever loved, the only person he ever truly betrayed…
Following the destruction of her home and family in a fire that left her horribly disfigured, Johanna has lived a life of hardship and pain. When her lost love comes to her, wounded and on the run from his father’s guard, she cannot turn him away. But she cannot forgive him either.
Can a prince who was once a beast earn back the love he cast aside?
Tutoring Miss Molly by Lyn Armstrong
Desperate to help her sick aunt through another brutal winter on their meager farm, Molly Cambridge will do anything to survive. Even if it means becoming a courtesan at the scandalous Harmon Manor. To catch the eye of a wealthy benefactor, she must learn the art of carnal pleasure from a resentful Marquess. Yet her traitorous heart cannot resist the handsome tutor that harbors secrets that may destroy them both. With attempts on her life and time running short, love is a luxury a courtesan can ill afford.
Bored with the spoiled, decadent lifestyle of the infamous sex society, Lord Devlin Harman has lit
tle time for courtesans and their cunning wiles. Blackmailed into tutoring an inexperienced courtesan, he is determined to show the farm girl the error of her ways. However, a unique beauty exists beneath the mud-stained rags, causing his jaded heart to melt and his flesh to burn for her touch. If she does not become the chosen courtesan at the mistress auction, he must marry a devious aristocrat by spring. Can he let Molly be a courtesan to gain freedom from his marriage contract? Or will he sacrifice everything for a farm girl?
Heat Lightning by Patricia Pellicane
Arizona Heat Series, Book Three
Abby was going home for her mother’s wedding. Caught in a train crash, she was horrified to suddenly find a strange man laying over her. That he was attractive bore no consideration. This simply could not happen. “Don’t fall asleep,” she pleaded, “oh please, don’t.” What had she ever done to cause this impossible moment? She couldn’t stay here. She couldn’t! She’d never sleep while pressed to the train’s filthy floor, held in place by the full length of a strange man.
The night went wild with the sounds of shattering glass, crushing metal and wood splintering into a million jagged pieces. Linc realized he taken a blow to his head. Something had hit him hard. He was bleeding, he thought, but the pain was already easing some. There wasn’t an inch of space and nothing he could do about it. Something held him in place. Hours later he awoke to find himself sprawled over the softest women. It took a moment before he remembered. She was that neat, little piece he’d been talking to seconds before the crash. Damn, if she didn’t smell and taste delicious. Could he be blamed for sampling a morsel of luscious woman? After all if she truly didn’t want it, wouldn’t she have stopped him?