His Conquest

by Diana Cosby

  Seathan scowled at them both. “There is no magic about the chamber.” He narrowed his eyes at his youngest brother. “The tale is but a story we made up to worry Alexander when he abducted Nichola.”

  “It was,” Duncan agreed, “but that I should have married Isabel after she resided within the same room seems to me more than a coincidence.” At Seathan’s silence, Duncan winked at Nichola. “Tell me, did the lass notice Seathan’s moss agate in our grandmother’s bowl?”

  Alexander arched a brow at his wife. “’Tis an answer I find myself curious to know as well.”

  “You both have the sense of mottled meal,” Seathan snapped.

  “Nichola?” Alexander asked.

  She nodded.

  “Whoo, lad, she did!” Duncan chortled.

  “It means naught,” Seathan said through gritted teeth.

  “So that is why you are surly as a mother bear protecting her cubs.” Duncan waved his hand with a theatric sweep. “’Twould seem the lad is doomed.”

  Alexander chuckled. “Aye, ’twill be a priest we will be needing within a sennight.”

  “Enough!” Seathan stated. “There will be no need for a priest. Instead of discussing such foolery as spells, we should focus on learning the true reason for Lady Linet’s appearance at my cell door on the eve before I was to be hanged.” At his reminder of his suspicions about her, the smiles of everyone within the chamber fell away.

  Somber, Isabel met her husband’s gaze. “You told me Lady Linet freed Seathan from Breac Castle.”

  “She did,” Duncan replied, “but we know not her reason or little more about her.”

  “Do you not trust her?” Isabel asked.

  And therein lay the crux of his problem. Seathan glanced out the window, where a floor above Linet lay asleep. “I do not know.”

  Nichola stood at the chamber window, mesmerized by the moonbeams upon the thin veil of ice remaining along the loch’s shore, as if a delicate frame to the mirror of water caught within.

  Strong arms wrapped around her from behind and pulled her into a gentle embrace. “I woke to find our bed cold and you gone,” Alexander whispered as he nibbled his way along the curve of her chin. “I thought you were nursing our babe, but then I spied you standing amongst the moonbeams.” He nuzzled the sensitive column of her throat. “Have I mentioned that I am the luckiest knight within the realm? A fact I will prove once I have you abed.”

  She gave him a smile, but it fell away as quickly.

  Alexander lifted his head, turned her toward him. He frowned as he studied her in the swath of silvery light. “You are troubled.”

  “I cannot rid Lady Linet from my mind.”

  “Has she threatened you? By my sword I will—”

  “No, it is nothing like that.”

  “Then what?”

  Nichola stared out into the moon-spun sky. “When I first saw Lady Linet within the courtyard, I…” She turned to face him. “I thought I knew her.”

  Alexander tensed. “You did not mention this before.”

  “Because I am not sure if I do.” She exhaled. “With my parents of high noble birth and Griffin’s position as King Edward’s Advisor to Scottish Affairs, over the years I have met so many people that their faces blur in my mind. But when I saw Lady Linet, she seemed so familiar.”

  “Did you ask if you had been introduced to her before?”

  “Yes. She said no.”

  At Alexander’s thoughtful expression, anxiety rippled through Nichola. “Do you think she was lying?”

  “I cannot be sure, but then, we know so little about her.” A grimace dug across his brow. “A fact that Lady Linet has used to her advantage. From the first she give Seathan no explanation other than that she wishes to travel to the Highlands.”

  “This is not making sense,” Nichola said. “We know she is English; her speech, clothes, and manner give her away. What other reason would make her so evasive…” Her pulse kicked. “Think you that she indeed conspires with Lord Tearlach?”

  “I do not know.” Alexander slid his fingers along her forearm to capture her hand within his. “Regardless, we must inform Seathan that you believe you have met her.”

  “Not yet. I may be wrong. Mayhap her appearance merely reminds me of another.”

  “Nay, I—”

  “Before we speak with him,” Nichola said, “give me time. Let me see if I can remember her. It would be wrong to cast further doubt upon Lady Linet if indeed she is a stranger to me.”

  Alexander grunted. “Her own actions have invited that doubt.”

  “True, but she did free Seathan. We owe her for saving his life.”

  “Two days,” Alexander finally said. “If you remember naught by then, we will tell Seathan.”

  Relieved, she nodded.

  Her husband grunted. “One thing we have learned is that the lass is foolhardy. While Seathan, Duncan, and I were on our return home, I watched her stand up to Seathan without hesitation.”

  Nichola’s mouth dropped open. “It is hard to believe.”

  A smile kicked up on the side of his mouth. “Aye, a unique sight to be sure.”

  “And the mark of a strong woman.”

  “Or a fool.”

  “Or,” Nichola said, “the trait of a woman comfortable dealing with powerful men.”

  Alexander grimaced as he mulled over that possibility, and she remembered that when she’d first met her husband, she had never imagined she would feel so blessed to be with him. At the memory she smiled, far from intimidated by this fierce warrior, a man who had abducted her a year past, a man whose son now lay asleep in the corner nook.

  “What is on your mind?” he grumbled.

  “That I am blessed to have you as my husband.”

  “Aye, you are at that.” In a purely possessive move, he swept her into his arms and carried her to a bed still mussed from their earlier lovemaking. “And before our son awakens, a fact I am going to remind you of many times over.”

  Memories of the places he’d touched, the things he’d done to her this night, had heat sweeping through her.

  With a growl, he laid her on their bed.

  She smiled, and the fire in his eyes ignited into a ferocious blaze. In a deft move, he ripped the sheer gown from her. Hands on his hips, he scanned her body with uncensored lust. As he claimed her mouth in a powerful kiss, Nichola’s thoughts of Lady Linet fled.

  Through the carved stone window, the first hints of daylight warmed the cloud-strewn sky, casting majestic hints of purple into a gray-black wash. Seathan ignored the beauty of the sunrise and winced as he shoved himself up the steps to his grandmother’s chamber. His brothers’ foolish tales of spells and magic were ridiculous.

  Still, his curiosity to view the stones within his grandmother’s bowl had left him unable to sleep. Was the other gemstone indeed Patrik’s?

  His heart ached as he thought of Patrik’s senseless death. Understanding his adopted brother’s hatred of the English could not lessen his grief at losing the man he’d loved.

  The fated day replayed in his mind. He and his brothers had searched the nearby woods for Nichola, who was then Alexander’s prisoner. At her distant scream, he’d ridden hard, only to come upon Patrik, already dead.

  Fresh grief swirled in his throat, the passage of time erased as if the tragedy had occurred but moments before. Patrik had never accepted that Alexander had fallen in love with an Englishwoman. Loyal to his country, to his brothers in spirit, he’d attempted to kill Nichola, to save Alexander from what Patrik believed to be a monumental mistake.

  And he’d died in the trying.

  Sadness swept through Seathan for a brother lost. Why had he not sensed Patrik’s hatred toward Nichola before it was too late? Though none had accused him, as lord of Lochshire Castle, he’d let his family down.

  Oddly, after Patrik’s death, the half stone gifted to him by Seathan’s grandmother had disappeared. Alexander and Duncan believed their grandmother had recla
imed it. Whatever had happened to the malachite, Seathan was sure magic was not involved.

  The echo of his boots slapped upon stone, a somber cadence to his unsettling thoughts. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself up the turret, his body reminding him that it needed more time to heal. Seathan pushed on. God’s teeth, he would have his answers.

  As he climbed the next step, the door to his grandmother’s chamber came into view. He halted.

  It seemed to glow.

  ’Twas but the early hour along with his weariness spinning tales in his mind. He rubbed his eyes, looked up.

  Shards of sunlight streamed through the darkness to illuminate the entry, but the mythical aura of moments before had vanished. He frowned. The door had not changed. He’d seen an image conjured by exhaustion.

  The faint calls of his guards making their rounds and the stirrings of the castle’s residents as they began their daily chores echoed within the silence of the turret. The distant clatter of pots and sounds of cleaning from the keep below added to the normality of the new day.

  He climbed the last few steps, ready to be done with this deed, then focus on Dauid. Aye, another day, two at most, then he would ride. He would find his people’s betrayer, a man whom he’d grown up with, a man whom he’d believed he could trust, and a man who’d betrayed those he’d once vowed to protect.

  Anger trembled through Seathan’s body. He seized the emotion; ’twould serve to banish any foolish thoughts of Linet.

  He knocked.

  Silence.

  With a grimace, he tugged the door open, stepped inside, and stopped. Linet lay tangled within the sheets, her long amber-gold hair strewn in a haphazard array to cradle her face in a rumpled sweep. A pale, slender leg peeked from the fine linen. And her breaths tumbled in soft cadence from full, soft lips. His chest squeezed tight. She looked like a fairy who’d drunk a charmed sleeping potion.

  He turned toward the bowl.

  A shimmer of light flickered from within.

  Nay, it was naught but the reflections of the sun’s rays. Disgusted with himself for allowing myths to influence him, he strode toward the small table.

  Several paces away, stunned, he froze.

  Christ’s blade, ’twas indeed Patrik’s malachite!

  Pulse racing, he walked forward, lifted the gemstone, fighting a storm of emotions. How had it returned? He refused to believe his brothers’ explanation of magic, focusing on the guard who’d disappeared. If the knight had taken it, why would he bring it back now?

  A wisp of cold air swirled around him.

  Pinpricks rippled over his skin.

  Opening his eyes, he scoured his grandmother’s quarters in a slow, methodical sweep. The door stood open as he’d left it. Through the window, sunlight now raced across the sky in a rich blend of hues ranging from purple to gold. But except for him and Linet, the chamber stood empty.

  Seathan glanced toward the bed.

  Eyes closed, she remained on her side, her even breathing indicating deep sleep.

  He studied Patrik’s halved gemstone within his palm. It lay cool against his skin, emitting not a sparkle, or a flicker of light. Magic was no more possible than the resurrection of a brother dead. The breeze he’d felt was created by the wind cascading through the castle turret, nothing more.

  He returned the stone to the bowl next to the other half of his moss agate. Unsettled, he crossed to the window, where golden rays of sunlight now touched the loch, erasing the fog that had settled upon the surface from the chill of night.

  On an exhale, Seathan studied the small plot of land inside the northern walls of Lochshire Castle where Patrik’s grave lay.

  The sorrow of his burial echoed through Seathan’s mind. He, along with Alexander, Duncan, Nichola, and his men had stood before Patrik’s grave. With the priest’s somber words, Seathan had tossed a handful of dirt upon the fresh mound and shed tears for the senseless loss of a tormented, misguided man whom he’d loved as if they were bound by blood.

  However much they wanted to believe Patrik was alive, he and his brothers must accept the truth.

  Patrik was dead.

  Linet’s soft groan, thick with sleep, had him turning toward her.

  The coverlet had slid down, exposing the full swells of her breasts. Riveted on her silken skin, on the hint of the darkened tips exposed with each breath, Seathan’s body tightened with need.

  She wrinkled her nose, sighed, then rolled onto her stomach, cutting off the seductive view. Still, the sunlight outlined her slender body with lust-stirring clarity.

  He couldn’t look away.

  The soft fullness of her mouth slipped open. He imagined covering her lips, sliding down her lush body to savor the taste of her skin, the essence of her womanhood. Desire gathered inside him, fragmenting his hard-won control.

  Her brow scrunched. Heavy lids slowly opened, then widened. She tugged the coverlet to her chin as she sat up. “What are you doing here?”

  Her sleep-roughened words drove another shot of lust through him like a well-aimed sword. “What do you think?” he demanded, frustrated at Linet for her part in his confusion. Never before had his control wavered.

  She wet her lips; he focused on the slick moisture. “You should not be here.”

  He chose a scowl to shield the feelings she inspired. “You will be moved this day.”

  Surprise, then panic, flared on her face. “To where?”

  “To another chamber.” Relief flickered in her gaze, shoving his annoyance up another notch. “You thought I would move you to my private chamber?”

  “With you, I am never sure.”

  “A fact to heed.”

  She held his gaze. “You do not intimidate me.”

  “Intimidate you?” A wry smile settled on his mouth. What he wanted to inspire in her was hardly intimidation.

  Linet angled her jaw. “It is not funny.”

  “Nay, far from it.” What she made him feel, want, was not at all a laughing matter.

  Chapter 10

  Heart pounding, Linet focused on Seathan standing but an arm’s length away, hands on his hips, his feet spread in a warrior’s stance, and his eyes burning hot. She clenched the embroidered bed covering, the delicately sewn coverlet a pathetic shield against this powerful Scot’s roving gaze.

  Heat swept through her at the memories of his touch, his destroying kiss, and his muscle-carved body pressed against her. God help her if he touched her now.

  She angled her chin and focused on the one man she could never have. “’Tis unseemly for you to be within my chamber without a chaperone.”

  Dry amusement edged through the hunger on his face. “Odd you choose now to worry about impropriety. In the dungeon but days past, you cared not.”

  “Your arrogance amazes me. Or have you forgotten that had I not freed you from Breac Castle, you would be dead?”

  His jaw tightened. “I forget nothing, including the fact that you have avoided explaining why you would risk your life to save mine. Never have we met, neither are we related, and you are English.”

  “And half Scottish.”

  “Yes,” he drawled, “let us not forget your watered-down heritage as well as your unexplained reason for fleeing Breac Castle.”

  The arrogant braggart! Eyes narrowed, she tugged the coverlet around her and scrambled to her feet. “You despise the English,” she said, her words curt. “For that I blame you not, but to dismiss my Scottish heritage is not only slander against me, but against my Scottish mother as well. Say to me what you will, but the latter I will not tolerate.”

  His eyes bored through her, eyes that saw too much. They trailed over her, igniting fires of need wherever he looked, evoking memories of her dreams, in which he stood naked before her, then laid her upon his bed and slid into her with exquisite heat.

  “I regret you believe that I would slight your mother, Scottish or no,” Seathan said at last, his deep burr echoing through the chamber. “That was not my intent. I apolog
ize.”

  His apology surprised her. Too aware of him, Linet stepped back. “I accept. You may go.”

  His eyes again narrowed. “You dismiss me from a chamber within my home?”

  “Dismiss you?” The arrogant toad! “You crept inside my room while I slept! Or do you intrude upon all of the single women’s chambers within your castle?”

  Green eyes turned as black as the devil’s own. “Collect whatever is yours.”

  “You will have to wait.”

  “I—”

  She angled her chin. “In case you have overlooked the fact, I am in an indecent state of dress.” As soon as she uttered the words, she wished them back. Seathan’s hard glare of moments before darkened, a potent reminder he was not only a warrior but a man.

  A very virile man.

  A man assured of his abilities.

  A man confident he would always leave a woman satisfied.

  Sweet Mary! “I meant…you will depart so I may dress.”

  He stepped toward her as if a predator stalking its prey. “I will depart?” His gaze moved over her with excruciating, seductive slowness before pausing on her face. “You are quick to command those around you, my lady.”

  Shivers of awareness slid through her. “Nay twist my words. Any other man would not have dared intrude upon a woman alone in her chamber, much less barge in and issue orders.”

  “On that you are correct. Any other man in my position would have secured you within the dungeon until he had gained the truth from you as to why you set him free.”

  “Is it a crime to wish to travel to the Highlands?”

  “If indeed that is your destination?”

  “Why would I lie?”

  “You tell me.”

  She adjusted the coverlet and held out her wrists. “Fine, then, if you think me so villainous, take me away, secure me until you discover the treachery you believe I conceal.”

  Seathan closed the distance between them, awareness swirling within the chamber as if a living, breathing thing. “Do not push me.”