Forbidden Night with the Highlander

by Michelle Willingham

  Joan squeezed her hand. ‘My brother is a fool. Don’t worry. In time, he will grow accustomed to the idea.’

  ‘I hope so.’ She dried her tears and tried to think of what she could do to make herself useful. She needed a task to occupy her time, preferably one that involved sorting supplies. The mindless task was what she needed to push back the hurt within her heart.

  Joan walked back with her, and she cast a sidelong glance at Rhys’s sister. Lianna felt a slight sense of guilt that she had never tried to become better acquainted with the woman. ‘May I ask you a question?’

  ‘Of course,’ Joan responded, slowing her pace.

  ‘Why do you only wear white? I never see you in any other colour.’ Lianna wasn’t certain if the question would offend her, but she did wonder.

  Joan’s expression dimmed. ‘It’s my own protection against evil spirits.’ She reached for the iron cross she wore and added, ‘And the fairies.’

  Lianna blinked a moment. ‘Forgive me, but you don’t seem like...’

  ‘Like a woman who believes in fairies?’ Joan finished. ‘I wasn’t once. But I am cursed, so I do whatever I can to overcome the shadows.’

  From the look in her troubled eyes, Lianna could see that the woman believed it. There was a sadness in her face, and she ventured, ‘What sort of curse?’

  The young woman’s mouth tightened. ‘Suffice it to say, I shall never marry. I will not bring the curse upon any other man.’

  ‘Were you married before?’ She had heard no one speak of Joan’s husband, but the woman seemed adamant about avoiding marriage.

  ‘I was betrothed. Twice.’ Her words came out clipped, and before Lianna could say another word, Joan insisted, ‘I don’t wish to speak of it again.’

  They had reached the donjon, and Lianna touched the woman’s shoulder out of sympathy. ‘Thank you for walking with me. And I’m sorry if I brought up painful memories.’

  ‘It’s not your fault,’ Joan answered.

  She paused near the entrance, preparing to leave when Lianna asked, ‘I would like to find a task to keep from being idle. I saw the storage chamber earlier and wondered if I might sort through your supplies.’

  Joan appeared uncertain but then shrugged. ‘I suppose there’s no harm in organising our winter stores. But bring a cloak to stay warm,’ she advised, ‘and keep the door raised.’ She ordered a servant to raise up the trapdoor and sent another maid to fetch a woollen cloak.

  Once Lianna had settled it across her shoulders, she climbed down the ladder leading into the storage chamber. Joan gave her an oil lamp to carry with her, and it lit up the dim space enough to see the contents of the space.

  It was indeed cool below the ground, but as Lianna turned and saw baskets and barrels in disarray, she braved a smile. She would sort through the mess and bring order where there was none.

  This was her special talent, and after the frustration of her conversation with Rhys, she needed a means of occupying her time. The barrels were too heavy for her to move, so she concentrated her efforts on the smaller baskets and cloth-wrapped bundles.

  Her hair kept falling in her face, so she braided it loosely and tucked it away, opening one box and then another to sort them by the contents. She organised the herbs together, then the dried meats, then the bags of grain. The work was difficult, but she found satisfaction in sorting neat rows of baskets.

  She had nearly finished her work, when the trapdoor abruptly closed. The gust of air from the motion extinguished her oil lamp. Lianna let out a curse, guessing that someone had forgotten she was inside. She reached out to the wall, using it to guide her back towards the ladder. She stumbled over one of the barrels and caught her balance before she could fall.

  In the darkness, she found the ladder and climbed up, trying to shove open the trapdoor. But it was too heavy for her and would not open. A sense of uneasiness passed over her, but she knocked against the wood and called out for someone to open the door.

  Over and over, she called out, but no one could hear her shouting. It must be the noon meal now, and possibly the din of all the people made it impossible to hear her.

  But surely Joan had not forgotten.

  Lianna continued to knock against the wood, even using her shoulder to try to lift the door. But it was useless.

  She climbed down the ladder, gathering the cloak around her for warmth. Eventually, someone would notice she was gone. For now, she was wasting her breath trying to be heard through the crowds of people talking in the Great Hall. She didn’t believe she was trapped in this chamber out of malice; more likely someone had seen it open and had closed it during the meal. They would come for her soon enough.

  She settled down on the floor with her back against one of the barrels. The air was frigid, and she shivered, trying to keep warm.

  The cloak helped, and in time, she found herself becoming weary. She lay down and curled up, resting her hand upon her unborn baby. Her body was aching, as if her very skin had been stretched tightly across her stomach.

  In time, the trapdoor opened and a voice called out, ‘Lianna?’ It was Rhys, and she said a silent prayer of thanks that he had found her.

  She opened her eyes and sat up. ‘I am here.’

  ‘Don’t move,’ he warned. ‘I am coming down to help you.’

  She squinted when a light flared in the darkness. Her husband was descending the ladder, and she had never been more grateful to be found.

  ‘I suppose they forgot I was in here,’ she said lightly. ‘Did Joan tell you where I was?’

  ‘She did.’ Her husband stood beside the ladder, and the expression on his face was dark and grim. ‘Come here, and I will help you out.’

  She started to rise, but a vicious pain stabbed her gut, and she faltered. ‘Give me a moment. It hurts to stand.’

  She rolled to her side, her knees curled up beneath her. ‘Could you help me up, Rhys?’

  He moved closer, but the look on his face was like nothing she had ever seen before. Each step appeared to be a torment. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked.

  But he gave no answer. She tried to stand, but although the stretching pain had abated, a dizziness washed over her. She gripped the edge of the barrel, closing her eyes as she caught her balance.

  Her husband had still taken only a single step towards her. She steadied herself, wondering what it was that bothered him so. Then she walked to him and took his hands in hers. They were freezing, and his stare was hard, like a shield of ice.

  ‘Why did you come down to this place?’ he demanded. ‘Or were you locked in?’

  ‘I came to sort through the supplies and was not strong enough to lift up the door,’ she said.

  ‘It was locked,’ he countered.

  The fury in his voice revealed his own anxiety for her sake. ‘It was likely a mistake, Rhys. I doubt if anyone did it on purpose.’ But there was something more within his tone, making her wonder aloud, ‘Were you ever locked inside here?’

  ‘Many times,’ he answered. ‘And I want to go now.’

  She drew her arms around his waist. ‘Who did that to you, Rhys?’

  He held her for a moment, breathing against her hair. ‘My stepmother Analise. When I was only four and ten, she...punished me.’

  Lianna tightened her grip around him, holding him close. ‘Will you tell me what happened?’

  ‘Not here,’ he started to say, but she did not want to set the conversation aside. Not when he was giving her a glimpse of his past.

  ‘It’s only a storage chamber,’ she said quietly. ‘Perhaps if you have bad memories of being locked away, we should confront them.’ She lifted her face to meet his. ‘Or if you would rather leave, I will go with you.’

  He let out a slow breath, hesitating. ‘I tell my soldiers to confront their fears. I suppose I should do the same.’

 
‘So long as we are not locked inside this place together,’ she teased. Then she reached up to touch his cheek. ‘Unless you want to be.’

  She noted a flare of interest in his blue eyes. Then he turned back. ‘You spent a lot of time organising this space.’

  ‘I did. It should be easier for your servants to find what they need now.’

  He gave a nod, but she could tell that he had no interest in the supplies. Instead of describing what she’d done, she rested her cheek against his chest. ‘Why did your stepmother punish you, Rhys?’

  ‘Because I refused to let her touch me. And I refused to lie with her. I could not imagine such a sin.’

  She could feel the rigid tension in his body, the tight control over his emotions. In spite of his stepmother’s unwanted advances, he had remained strong. It had taken great courage to stand up to her as a young adolescent.

  ‘And she locked you in here when you refused?’

  ‘She did. And she warned me that because I had disobeyed her, Warrick would also be punished.’ He kept her in his embrace, as if trying to protect her. ‘We both hated Analise. It was she who murdered her own daughter and blamed my brother for it. She claimed that he dropped the baby, but I believed Warrick when he told me the truth. Our father will never accept it, nor will he forgive my brother for what happened.’

  ‘That’s terrible,’ she murmured. But it did explain the animosity between father and son.

  ‘She warned Warrick never to tell anyone, or she would hurt me. When she locked me away in this place, it was also a warning to him. But he did not listen to her. I pray she is rotting in hell right now. She died from a fall on horseback, and it serves her right.’ He stroked back her hair, and yet, she could feel the chill in his skin.

  He had bared the wounds of the past to her, and she wanted to lead him out of the darkness that haunted him. No young boy should have been mistreated so, and she rested her cheek against his heart. ‘Rhys, I am sorry for what she did. It was wrong.’

  He gripped her in a tight embrace, and now she was beginning to understand his anger. He was a man who had grown up with no love from his parents—only a connection with his brother and sister. He had a fierce need to be in command, after being a victim as a child.

  He had tempted her earlier today, driving her wild with need and asserting his control. But instead of joining with her, reinforcing their marriage bond, he had pulled back, refusing to take his own pleasure. He was a man filled with suspicion and years of past wounds. Now, she realised what a mistake it had been, waiting for him to touch her.

  Though he would never say it, Rhys was a man who needed love. He needed to understand that she did care for him, and she had returned to prove it to him.

  ‘Come with me,’ she bade him.

  ‘Wait.’ He drew his hands down to her waist, touching the soft swell of her womb. ‘I am sorry I did not help you up when you asked me earlier. Are you all right now?’

  ‘I will be fine. Sometimes it hurts when my skin stretches. And I get dizzy at times.’ She covered his hands with her own and added, ‘Rhys, are you not happy about this baby?’

  In answer, he embraced her so tightly, it was as if he wanted to fuse his skin into hers. ‘I am. And yet, it fills me with fear and the need to protect both of you. I cannot let anything happen.’

  Her own feelings mirrored his, for she knew the dangers of childbirth. And yet, she felt her spirits lift at his words. She kissed his cheek, and Rhys turned her face to lower his mouth to hers. His kiss revealed a tenderness and yearning that tempted her to stay together in this space. But she could not ask that of him, knowing the harsh memories he’d endured. Instead, she led him towards the ladder. Once they were out of the storage chamber, he lowered the door again and secured it. She took his hand, but he started to pull back.

  ‘I should return to my men.’

  ‘Not yet.’ She drew his face down to hers and murmured in his ear, ‘I travelled this far to tell you of our child, but also because I wanted you to ken that you are the husband I desire.’ She kissed his earlobe, noting how his fingers dug into her waist. ‘You are going to follow me to our chamber. And now, it is my turn to give you pleasure.’

  Chapter Twelve

  They barely made it inside Rhys’s bedchamber before he kissed her again. Lianna felt the raging needs of her husband, and he ripped the laces free, lowering her gown to her waist. Once again, he was taking command, as if trying to exorcise his demons. His mouth closed over her nipple, and she went liquid between her legs, craving his body inside hers.

  But this was not about mindless lovemaking. She wanted him to know the feelings locked away inside her heart.

  ‘Don’t ever leave me again,’ she said against his mouth, kissing him. ‘We belong together.’

  He started to reach for her skirts, but she stopped him. ‘No, Rhys. You had your turn before. Now it’s my turn to love you.’

  He went motionless, his blue eyes staring into hers. For a moment, she could not tell if she had made him angry.

  She removed her gown, standing naked before him. ‘I made a mistake at Eiloch, thinking that you would never want my touch, after I misspoke to Iona. But I want you to ken that I do want you. And if you will allow it, I am going to pleasure you until you can no longer bear it.’

  At that, his eyes smouldered with lust. In silent answer, her husband removed his clothing and walked towards the bed. He sat down, and when she drew close, he reached for her waist. ‘Will the baby be all right?’

  She nodded. Then she stood between his legs, resting her hands on his shoulders. ‘If there is anything you do not want me to do, you need only say the word and I will stop.’ She wanted him to know that this was about her desire to give back to him, not to force him. ‘Will you trust me?’

  He hesitated. ‘What do you intend to do?’

  In answer, she pressed him back against the bed, straddling him. When she sat against his rigid erection, he hissed. ‘My God, you’re wet.’

  ‘Because I want you. And I want to prove to you how very much I desire your touch.’ Lianna drew her hands over his chest, feeling the rapid pulse of his heart. She leaned in and kissed his mouth, sliding her tongue inside. His tongue met hers, and she felt him grasp her hips, sliding his shaft against her body.

  Her breasts tightened and she guided him inside, feeling the stretch as he invaded her flesh. It was sweet torment, but she held him there without moving. He sat up, and the change in the angle made her tighten her inner walls against his hard erection.

  Rhys lifted one breast to his mouth. ‘Will this hurt you?’

  She shuddered at the sensation of his breath against her nipple. ‘I am still sensitive there.’

  ‘What about this?’ he asked, moving his thumb to her hooded flesh. Her body quaked at the sudden caress, and she moved against him, trying to take him deeper.

  ‘I like that,’ she said. Slowly, she rose up on her knees, then thrust against him once more. She squeezed him between her thighs and was rewarded when he closed his eyes and dug his fingers into her backside.

  ‘Lianna,’ he breathed in wonder.

  She began riding him, thrusting gently. He kept the pressure of his thumb between them, and she fixed her gaze upon him. This man had come into her life, disrupting everything. And yet, she could not imagine being without him.

  She wanted to tell him that she loved him, but the words would not come. Instead, she tried to show him, by loving him with her body. She learned when to hasten her tempo and when to slow down. Her skin was hot, slick with perspiration as she continued to move upon him.

  ‘Are you all right?’ she whispered. ‘Does this bother you at all?’ She wanted no memories of the past to intrude upon them.

  ‘Only if you stop.’ Rhys adjusted the angle between them, and somehow he seemed to sense what she needed. Lianna rode him harder, until
she felt the shimmering release breaking forward. She took him hard, accepting him inside her until she felt him shaking.

  His breathing was rhythmic, and he groaned when she thrust upon him, over and over, until she felt his release seize him. She let go, surrendering to the tide of her own desire, and he grasped her bottom, penetrating her deeply and spilling his seed.

  Rhys gripped her body upon his, and she could not help the aftershocks that claimed her. Then he rolled her to the side, remaining sheathed within her depths.

  Lianna rested her palms upon his heart. ‘The past is gone, Rhys. There is only now.’

  He held her closely, his hand sliding down over her bare spine. ‘I won’t let anything happen to you, Lianna. Or our baby.’

  She tried to smile, but she held back the fear. There were some things he could not guard against, but she said nothing. For now, she wanted him to know that she had forgiven him. And it was enough.

  * * *

  There were moments when Rhys felt as if his life had shifted into a dream. Lianna had transformed herself into a Norman lady, but she still found her own secret ways of winning the hearts of his people. His soldiers adored her, for she sent them gifts of food or flagons of ale. Under her direction, Montbrooke had transformed into a beautiful castle, with immaculate gathering spaces and delicious meals.

  But he knew she missed Scotland. It was in her eyes, and in the way she sometimes stared out into the green hills. He had already decided to take her back home before the heavy snows fell. She would want to celebrate the Yuletide with her family.

  A light snow was falling from the sky, and he saw Lianna walking across the inner bailey, her brat pulled over her red hair. Snowflakes dotted her lashes and face, and as she drew near, he beckoned her closer.

  ‘Good morn to you.’ He reached out and brushed the flakes from her cheek. ‘You look cold, my wife.’

  ‘It is cold,’ she agreed.

  He drew his arm around her waist. ‘I may need to warm you.’