The Chieftain

by Margaret Mallory

  Ilysa refrained from pointing out that, despite her diminutive size, she was a Highlander. Eventually, Jane’s breathing grew even, and Ilysa believed she was finally asleep.

  She heard a soft knock on the door. As a healer, she was often awakened in the night to tend to someone. She quickly slipped out of bed, wrapped a plaid around her shoulders, and went to see who it was.

  When she cracked the door, she saw Connor in the torchlight from the stairs. He did not speak a word until she slipped out and closed the door behind her. Then he enfolded her in his arms like a dying man clinging to life and said her name into her hair. He held her for a long, long time before he spoke another word.

  “I couldn’t wait any longer for ye to come to me,” he said. “I need ye so much.”

  How could she resist him? When he lifted her in his arms to carry her to his chamber, she buried her face in his neck. He smelled of sea air and peat smoke—and Connor.

  After he closed the door to his chamber, he pressed her against it. His kisses were demanding, urgent, desperate.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” he said, his mouth against her ear. “But ye can’t leave me. Ye can’t.”

  When he hiked up her nightshift, the roughness of his shirt against her breasts sent tingles of awareness through her. She felt the familiar soft scratch of the calluses on his palms as he ran his hand up her side and over her back.

  Tomorrow, she would think it all through, but right now she just wanted to be with him. Tonight, he was still hers. She wanted to touch him, to feel his warm skin and strong muscles under her hands, to be surrounded by his heat and passion.

  He drew in a sharp breath when she reached between them and ran her hand up his shaft through his clothes. While their tongues entwined in a slow, sensual kiss, he unfastened his trews. When she wrapped her hand around his freed shaft, he deepened their kiss and sucked on her tongue.

  “I’m going to show ye that you’re mine,” he said in a ragged voice against her ear.

  He dropped to his knees and covered her breasts with his hands. His breath was hot and moist on her skin as he kissed and ran his tongue along her breastbone. All the while, he rubbed her nipples between his fingers and thumbs, sending jolts of desire sparking through her and causing a throbbing ache between her legs.

  She clenched her fingers in his long hair as he sank lower and encircled her thighs with his hands. Tension curled inside her like a spring as he teased her with his tongue and mouth, planting moist kisses across her abdomen and down her hip.

  “Aye,” she gasped when he finally dipped his tongue between her legs. Her breasts ached, and her breathing grew shallow as she watched him pleasure her. But then she dropped her head back against the door. She gave herself over to the sensations coursing through her body as he worked his magic, licking and circling and sucking, until her knees grew weak.

  He gripped her buttocks, holding her up and pulling her harder against his mouth. When he slid a finger inside her, her vision went black behind her eyelids. She heard herself cry out as if from a distance as bursts of bright light sparked and shimmered through her in waves.

  Connor rose to his feet and lifted her off hers. Her nipples were so sensitive that she gasped when they brushed against his chest.

  “I need to be inside ye,” he said between frantic kisses. “Now.”

  “Aye,” burst from her throat as he thrust deep inside her in one stroke, and her body clenched around him in another spasm of pleasure. Before she could catch her breath, he thrust into her faster and harder. Her back was banging against the door, but she didn’t care. She could never get enough of him, never. She held on to him more tightly as he moved against her, sending hot shards of pleasure darting through her that were almost painful. He shuddered, and she cried out again as he called her name and exploded inside her.

  He rested his forehead on the door and held her up, which was good because she could not have stood on her own. They were both panting and sweaty. After a long while, he leaned back just far enough to look into her face with his silvery blue eyes.

  “I love ye with all my heart,” he said, rubbing his thumb across her cheek. “You’re part of me, and I am part of you. We are two halves of one whole.”

  * * *

  Connor turned to Ilysa again and again in the night, trying to persuade her with his body to stay, to show her how much he loved and needed her. As he watched the room in the eerie light of dawn, lack of sleep made him feel as if he were floating. And yet, he did not want to close his eyes for fear she would slip away from him while he slept.

  She stirred, restless in her sleep. When she opened her eyes, he saw farewell in them.

  No, I cannot let her go. He caught her tear with his finger, and then her arms came around his neck. He breathed in the familiar scent of lilies and held her.

  “Make love to me as if it were the last time,” she said.

  He did as she asked.

  He pressed his lips to her palm, then he laid her on her back and kissed every inch of her, starting with her toes. Though he already had her body embedded in his memory, he memorized it again as he traced the arch of her foot, her slender ankle, the softness on the back of her knee.

  He let the gold and red strands of her hair slide through his fingers.

  He knew her, knew how to make her sigh, knew what the slight hitch in her breath meant. He used it all against her, trying to convince the stubborn woman he loved that what was between them was all that mattered. That it was enough.

  She was quivering with need before they finally joined.

  “Ye belong to me,” he told her. She did not argue, but with Ilysa that never meant agreement.

  They made love with a desperate passion.

  * * *

  Ilysa held Connor to her a final time, then she forced herself to pry her arms loose and slide out of bed—and out of his reach. She slipped on her nightshift before she changed her mind.

  “I thought I could do this,” she said, swallowing back her tears. “But I’ve met her now, and I can’t.”

  “Ilysa, please,” Connor said but stopped when she held up her hand.

  “I wish I could say it is only because I don’t want to take your attention from her,” she said. “But the truth is that she’s far too pretty, too lively, too sweet.”

  “Sweet? She cares nothing about the welfare of my clan. She frets about silly things.”

  “Jane is just young,” Ilysa said.

  “She is the same age as you are.”

  “She hasn’t had responsibilities and doesn’t know any better, but she will learn,” Ilysa said. “Ye will love her in time.”

  That was what had finally convinced her she must go. She could neither bear to be the reason Connor did not fall in love with his wife, nor watch him fall in love with her.

  “I’ve told ye that no one else will ever have my heart,” he said.

  “I can’t share ye. I just can’t do it.” Ilysa briskly re-braided her hair out of habit and to calm herself. “I want something of my own. A home, a family, a husband.”

  Connor got out of bed and clasped his hands around hers.

  “We can have children,” he said. “Your sons will have chieftain’s blood, and the same chance to be chosen chieftain as my other sons.”

  “Isn’t that precisely what ye feared?” She looked away from him so he would not see the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes.

  “That doesn’t matter to me now, and it’s too late anyway,” he said. “Ye could be carrying my child already.”

  “I’m not.” At least, there was no sign of it yet. “I’m a healer. I would know.”

  “But I want to have children with you,” Connor said.

  She closed her eyes against the answering surge of longing in her heart. How she would love to have Connor’s children, to have a son with his fine looks and stalwart heart. But that was not to be.

  “While we were at the gathering, I had an offer of marriage,
” Ilysa said. “I plan to take it.”

  Connor straightened and stared at her. She tried not to be insulted or hurt that he was so shocked, but she was.

  * * *

  Connor felt as if he had been kicked in the stomach.

  “Ye didn’t mention it before,” he said through his teeth. “Who is he?”

  “I know ye thought no chieftain would want to wed me because I’m not important enough,” she began.

  “I never said ye were not important—you’re everything to me,” Connor said, wondering if she were deliberately misunderstanding him. “I only meant that ye don’t bring a clan’s power and warriors to a marriage.”

  “Regardless of all I lack,” Ilysa said, “the MacNeil chieftain said he wants to wed me.”

  “Glynis’s father?” Connor said. “Ye can’t want to marry him. Why, he’s an old man.”

  “He’s not old,” she said. “He’s a fine man, and I like him.”

  “He has all those children, that’s why he asked ye,” Connor said, raising his arms. “He wants a wife to mother his children.”

  Ilysa turned and fixed her direct gaze on him. “Is that the only reason ye believe a man would want me for his wife?”

  “Of course not, but he doesn’t love ye as I do.” He tried pulling her into his arms, but she pushed him away.

  “Mothering his children appeals to me,” she said. “I like children. Perhaps we’ll be blessed with more. I know that would please him as well as me.”

  The thought of Ilysa having any man’s child but his made Connor feel physically ill.

  “I want a family. I want to be mistress of my own home. I want a man I can call husband, who will take a vow to be faithful and keep it,” she said, relentlessly ticking off the things he could not give her. “I believe marriage to Gilleonan MacNeil will provide me with all that.”

  “But will ye love him?” Connor asked, hating the desperation in his voice.

  “I will feel useful and valued.” She wrapped her plaid around her shoulders and tied the corners together with a snap. “I will be content.”

  “It sounds as though you’ve given this a great deal of thought.” Just how long had she been planning to leave him?

  “I have,” she said.

  “Who else did ye consider in all this thinking ye did? Lachlan of Lealt perhaps?” Connor asked. “Ye seem to have developed a true fondness for him.”

  “Lachlan?” Her face showed surprise, and he wondered if she was feigning it. “I’d never wed a MacDonald now, especially one who would keep me here on Trotternish. I’m going where I won’t ever see ye again.”

  Never see him again? Could she mean it? His anger drained out of him, leaving only emptiness in its place.

  “I’ll tell the MacNeil when he comes here to join the battle against the MacLeods.” She busied herself adjusting the plaid over her nightshift and avoided looking at him as she spoke.

  “If you’ll be happy with him, then I shall be content as well.” Connor made himself say it, though it was a lie. “But there’s no need for ye to make a hasty decision.”

  “If the MacNeil still wants me, I’ll leave with him as soon as the battle’s done.”

  That gave Connor almost no time to persuade her to change her mind.

  “Remember, ye promised not to wed before Beltane,” Ilysa said. “Ye owe me that.”

  “Does it matter now?” he asked.

  She finally looked at him, and in her eyes he saw the deep sorrow that she had tried to hide behind her brusque manner.

  “Aye,” she said softly, “it still matters.”

  CHAPTER 34

  No one leaves the castle without my permission,” Connor reminded everyone before they settled down to their meal.

  He had first issued the order the moment Jane set foot in the castle. If word of her grandfather’s imminent arrival with three hundred warriors reached the MacLeods, they would attack at once while the odds were still in their favor.

  Jane sat next to him, and his appetite steadily dwindled as she prattled on about the latest court fashions. His thoughts grew blacker as he scanned the faces of his men while they ate, wondering which of them had murdered the two guards and left the gate open for Hugh. He had no better idea of who the culprit was now than the night it happened.

  He was relieved when Lachlan entered the hall and strode to the head table, interrupting the meal.

  “You and Sorely, come with me,” Connor said, rising from his chair.

  Whatever Lachlan had discovered on his latest excursion around the peninsula, Connor did not want him to speak of it in front of everyone in the hall. And he was glad for the excuse to leave.

  As he turned to go, he caught the question in Ilysa’s eyes and gave a slight nod. Before he left, he saw her pick up a flask of wine from the table as a pretext for coming into his chamber while he met with the two men. He had become accustomed to having her listen in on his private meetings and sharing her insights with him afterward. Apparently she had decided not to abandon him entirely yet, though she had avoided him all day up until now.

  “What news do ye bring?” Connor asked Lachlan once the three of them were settled at the table in his chamber.

  Sorely kept glancing over his shoulder, as if he expected the nursemaid’s ghost to sneak up behind him and strangle him. Connor withstood the temptation to knock some sense into him.

  “The MacLeods have gathered more men at the Snizort River,” Lachlan reported. “They’re harassing the few MacDonald farmers who still live near the river.”

  “Our warriors from Sleat and North Uist will be here soon, as well as MacIain’s,” Connor said. “We cannot let ourselves be drawn into battle before they arrive.”

  “While we’re waiting,” Lachlan said, “can we rattle some MacLeod cages a bit to divert them from the farmers?”

  Connor had precisely the same idea. “I’ll send you two and the other men I can spare to the Snizort River.”

  “Both of us?” Lachlan asked in a flat voice.

  “Aye.” Connor did not think either of them was Hugh’s man, but it always paid to be cautious. The two disliked each other, and they could not both be spies, so he could count on them to watch each other. “All I want ye to do is create some havoc. Just enough to make the MacLeods cautious about straying too far from their camp.”

  “Who’s in charge?” Lachlan asked.

  He was right to ask, for one man had to lead. Sorely was paying close attention now and had a smug expression, anticipating Connor’s answer.

  “Sorely,” Connor said and stood, dismissing them both.

  Lachlan was the better man, but Connor was less certain he could trust him. He told himself it was a logical decision and had nothing to do with Lachlan’s friendliness with Ilysa.

  “Leave before daybreak and return as soon as ye can,” he told them.

  As the two men left, Connor watched Ilysa meet Lachlan’s eyes and some message pass between them. Connor’s claim on her was weakening by the hour. He could not bear that she might choose to be with Lachlan—or any man but him. She had said it would be MacNeil, but there was something between her and Lachlan.

  “I’m surprised ye picked Sorely,” Ilysa said as soon as the door was shut behind them.

  “I thought we agreed ye wouldn’t question my judgment again,” Connor snapped, jealousy making him angry.

  “And I thought ye wanted me in the room because ye valued my opinion,” Ilysa said, crossing her arms. “I can see I was nothing but a bedmate to ye—and a temporary one at that.”

  When Connor put his arms around her, her body was stiff and unyielding.

  “I’m sorry. The prospect of losing ye is making me behave like an ass.” Sadness filled him as he breathed in the familiar scent of lilies in her hair. “You’re everything to me.”

  “Would you be willing,” she said in a quiet voice as she pushed him away, “to share me with another lover?”

  The thought of her with anyone
else made him murderous. If the circumstances were the other way around, he could never leave her—but her husband would be found with Connor’s dirk in his chest.

  “You’re right,” he said. “I am asking too much.”

  She touched his cheek with the tips of her fingers, filling him with longing. But it was only a gesture of farewell.

  “We must both try to be happy,” she said.

  It was not his fate to be happy. It was his fate to save his clan, no matter what it cost him.

  * * *

  The moon was full.

  Ilysa pulled her hood over her head, carefully closed her door without a sound, and slipped down the stairs. Outside the hall, she paused to listen. When she was certain she heard nothing but snoring men, she tiptoed into the hall. The hearth fire cast a dim, eerie light over the slumbering bodies on the floor and benches. Ilysa skirted the edge of the room, staying in the shadows.

  Connor would never agree to let her go if he knew, and she did not want an escort. She must do this alone. With a glance over her shoulder to reassure herself that she had awakened no one, she eased the heavy door open just far enough to slide through and closed it softly behind her.

  “There is an ill child who needs me,” she told the guard at the gate, and he gave her no trouble, despite Connor’s order. Men simply did not see a threat when they looked at her. Besides that, everyone knew she had Connor’s trust.

  Before she left to marry MacNeil, she would do everything she could to safeguard Connor. Tonight, she was making her second and last trip to the faery hills to cast her protective spells for him.

  * * *

  Connor looked up to see Sorely in the doorway to his chamber. Judging from the dwindling candlelight on his table, it was near midnight.

  “You’re not going to like this,” Sorely said.

  There was nothing Sorely could tell him that would be worse than the news that Ilysa was leaving. But it must be serious for Sorely to brave the ghost. He nodded for Sorely to come in.

  “I’ve found our spy,” Sorely said.

  “No matter who our traitor is, ’tis better to know.” He hoped it wasn’t Lachlan. Despite his jealousy, he liked the man, and Lachlan was his best warrior. And odd as it seemed, he felt a connection between them because of the shared brother they had lost. “Who is it?”