Gray chuckled again. Lore a’mighty, but the lass lightened his heart whene’er he was with her. “Ye know he willna hurt ye, lass. He just likes to tug on ye a bit until ye give him the attention he feels he deserves.”
Trulie’s watchful gaze slid from the black warhorse to Gray. “I’ll take your word for it.”
Gray reached out to the mare. The small horse stepped forward and nuzzled his palm. “Now, Sorrel here is quite the lady.” Gray smoothed his hand up the horse’s cheek and rubbed her warm, silky neck. “She will no’ cause ye any trouble at all. Come. I’ll settle ye on her back.”
Sorrel affirmed Gray’s invitation with a soft whinny and toss of her head.
Trulie didn’t move toward the waiting saddle, just stood with her gaze locked on the horse and didn’t say a word.
“Trulie.” Gray reached out, snagged the sleeve of her dress and gently pulled her closer to the horse. “Ye dinna have to mount her just yet. Come and get t’know Sorrel. Ye’ll know her for the wee lamb that she is.”
“There is nothing wee about her,” Trulie argued as she grudgingly allowed Gray to position her in front of the waiting mount. Trulie glanced back at Gray and then nodded toward Sorrel’s whisker-covered nose just inches from her face. “She looks small to you because you’re so big.”
Gray couldn’t resist the look on Trulie’s face, a delightful combination of frustration, wonder, and maybe just a tiny bit of fear. Grasping her shoulders, he turned her toward him and pecked a quick kiss to the end of her nose.
Trulie’s soft green eyes nearly crossed as she glared up at him. “Kissing me will not make the horse any smaller.”
Laughter rumbled from Gray’s chest as he closed his arms around her. He inhaled the sweetness of her hair and nuzzled the warm silkiness just behind her ear. “Kissing ye will no’ make me any smaller either.”
Trulie immediately melted into his embrace and slid her hands up his back. “I can think of a better way to spend the afternoon than teaching me to ride a horse.”
“Aye. So can I.” If he had his way about it, Trulie would nay be mounting anything but him. A groan escaped him as he found her mouth. Lore, the woman already had him aching to take her.
Leaning Trulie back in one arm, Gray ran a hand down the rough weave of her overdress and cradled the enticing swell of her hip. As he dove deeper into the warm welcome of her mouth, he edged them backward into an empty stall. The thought of bedding down in the fresh clean hay spurred him onward. Aye. This was the perfect place for an afternoon of pleasure.
Trulie slid her hands up around his neck and molded herself against him. She returned his kiss with an urgency that nearly undid him. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. Gray shuddered and hungrily opened her mouth for more. Lore—the taste of her lures me like wine tempts a drunkard.
He ne’er got his fill of her, could nay imagine the keep without her. But what if she chose to leave? What if she chose another time o’er him? Gray eased back a bit, shaken by the thought.
Trulie whispered against his mouth. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Gray rasped as he swept her up into his arms and laid her gently down in the hay.
“Wait a minute,” Trulie gasped as she nibbled a hurried kiss beneath his jawline.
Wait? Gray stopped and pulled back. “I thought…”
Trulie patted him on the chest and grinned. “I’m tangled up in all these clothes. I need to shed some of them if we’re going to…” Trulie’s words trailed off, but the look in her eyes left no doubt as to what she meant.
Now, that sounded like a fine idea indeed. Gray shifted to his side and propped his head in his hand. “Aye. Rid yourself of those trappings. I promise ye, I’ll no’ let ye get cold.”
The look Trulie gave him fanned the aching burn pulsing through him. Damn, but the woman set him on fire.
Trulie rolled to her feet and shucked the heavy overdress off over her head. She threw it over the side of the stall and bent to gather up the next layer.
Gray sat up and looked closer. What the devil did the woman wear beneath her léine?
The soft, white linen of Trulie’s ankle-length underdress appeared much darker from her waist down. Instead of a teasing outline of Trulie’s bare legs, the tunic revealed some sort of skin-tight blue trews.
“What the hell are ye wearin’, woman?” Gray sat up in the hay.
“My leggings,” Trulie replied with a grin. She bunched up the yards of linen around her waist and danced around in a circle. “See?”
Gray swallowed hard. Aye. He saw all right. How could he no’ see the way the leggings molded across the perfection of her fine arse? “But why?” Gray relaxed back against the wood of the stall and flicked a hand toward Trulie’s middle. “Ye should be bare ’neath yer dress. Women dinna wear trews or…leggings. Why the hell are ye no’ wearin’ yer stockings?”
Trulie’s eyebrows arched nearly to her hairline. “It’s cold outside. You might be used to the wind whistling up your bare backside, but I’m not. These keep me nice and warm on a chilly day. Stockings don’t insulate anything but my legs.”
“If ye keep yer skirts down where they belong, the wind can no’ get beneath them.” The manner in which Trulie filled out the strange clothing disturbed Gray—in both a good and bad way. Such trappings were no’ a part of this time. If Trulie planned to stay here, she should set them aside. The thought of Trulie leaving disturbed him worse than the clothing revealing entirely too much of Trulie’s curves.
Trulie yanked the dress back down over her leggings with a stomp of one foot. Her brows knotted into a threatening scowl as she jabbed a finger toward the center of Gray’s chest. “If I keep my skirts down where they belong, the wind won’t be the only thing that won’t get underneath them.”
Lore a’mighty. That’s not what he meant. The part of his body aching between his legs demanded he fix this. Now. Gray stood and moved toward Trulie, grateful when she didn’t move away. “Ye know I meant no disrespect. ’Tis just…” Words failed him as he waved a hand toward the lower half of Trulie’s body. How the hell could he put it without fanning her ire?
“Be careful what you say,” Trulie said with a toss of her head. “You don’t want to dig that hole you’re in any deeper.”
Aye. She spoke the truth of it there. Gray closed his mouth and scrubbed a hand down his face. His cock roared its disapproval. How the devil had they gone from love play to sparring in just a blink of an eye?
Gray surrendered by lifting his hands in the air. “Forgive me, mo chridhe. I meant no slight to ye. Please know I would ne’er treat ye with disrespect. I swear it.”
The stiff set of Trulie’s shoulders softened with the apology and a forgiving smile crept across her face.
Thank the gods. Maybe there was hope for a bit of afternoon pleasure after all. Gray eased forward, pulled Trulie toward him, and pressed his forehead against hers. “Can ye forgive a backward Scot who fails to understand yer new ways?”
Trulie’s soft giggle bubbled between them. “Yes.” She leaned back and slid her hands up and cradled his face. “And I’m sorry too. I’ll try not to be so quick to judge.”
Gray bent and found her mouth. Enough talking. Time for pleasure.
Trulie stiffened in Gray’s arms, then jerked back an arm’s length away from him. “Did you hear that?”
Gray bit back a groan. Now what the devil had gone astray? Were the Fates determined to turn his bollocks blue? Gray raised his head and listened. Animals rustled in their stalls. A hoof occasionally stomped on the hard-packed earth. “I hear nothing, mo luaidh. ’Twas more than likely one of the horses…or mayhap Rory tending them.”
Trulie took another step back. A faraway gaze filled her eyes as she lifted her face and listened. Turning in a slow circle with her head cocked to one side, Trulie’s cheeks reddened as she listened. “No. It’s not the horses or your stable guard. There is someone else…” Trulie’s voice trailed off as she closed her eyes.
What the hell had the woman heard? Concern washed over Gray like a bucket of icy water. He had seen that look before, on Tamhas’s face when the old man received a disturbing vision. Gray strode out of the stall. He scowled up and down the dimly lit dirt aisle running the length of the stable. He saw naught amiss.
Trulie shot out of the stall, looped her arm around his elbow and pulled. “Come on. We have to get the horses out of here. Now!”
“What say ye?” Gray planted his feet.
The alarm flashing in Trulie’s eyes flooded a rush of adrenaline through him. Gray reached out and steadied Trulie by the shoulders. “What the hell are ye sayin’? What did ye hear?”
Trulie wrung her hands in front of her waist, fidgeting back and forth as she nervously glanced all around. “I heard—” Trulie jerked her head from side to side and frowned. “Never mind what I heard. There’s going to be a fire. We can’t waste any more time. I promise I’ll explain later.”
Fire. The word shot through Gray like fast-acting poison. Memories of the last fire twisted through his gut. Spurred to action, Gray shoved Trulie toward the outer door. “Out. Now. I will tend to the animals.”
Trulie yanked her arm out of his grip and stomped deeper into the stable. “Bull crap. I’m going to help you. Now, come on!”
“Damn ye, woman! For once, will ye listen?” Gray charged forward, scooped Trulie up and flopped her over one shoulder. From what she said, he had no time to reason with the hardheaded lass, and he damn sure was no’ going to risk losing her to a fire.
“Rory!” Gray roared as he plowed through the stable.
Trulie rained punches across Gray’s back and shoulders, squirming against his grasp. “P-put me down! D-damn you, Gray. I’m going to make you sorry if you don’t put me down.”
Gray snorted out a bitter laugh. He knew the best way to handle a hysterical woman—ignore her until she figured out he was right. “Rory!” Gray shouted again as he stepped outside.
“Aye?” A man the size of a well-fed bear gimped forward with a rolling, uneven gait. “What say ye, m’chieftain?”
“Call the lads and make haste. Turn out all the horses. Not a single animal must be left in the stalls.” Gray shifted Trulie more solidly across his shoulder, grateful that she’d stopped pummeling him when Rory had emerged from the paddock.
The balding man didn’t crack a smile, but his bushy gray brows did ratchet a few inches higher as his gaze settled on Trulie’s rump snuggled tight against Gray’s head. His thick, stubby fingers scratched the graying stubble of his cheek as he squinted back toward the building. “Ye want the stable empty?”
“Aye.” Gray nodded once. Good man. Rory was a man of few words and loyal clear to the bone. “As soon as I”—Gray swatted Trulie’s arse with the flat of his hand and grinned at the resulting enraged growl—“relieve m’self of this load, I’ll be back t’help ye.”
“Aye, m’chief.” Rory nodded once, glanced one more time at Trulie’s squirming form, then turned toward the training yards to the left of the stables. Several young boys, gangly and nothing but knees and elbows, moved about the lot tending to their duties. “Come now, lads,” Rory boomed out across the way. “There’s a chore to be done.”
The boys scrabbled to set aside their rakes and buckets, hurrying forward at their taskmaster’s request.
Gray nodded his approval, then hurried up the stone path toward the private gardens at the rear of the keep.
“Put me down! I can help you. You better listen to me.” Trulie reared back and rolled sideways. She grabbed a hank of Gray’s hair and yanked hard, as though she held reins to stop him.
Enough. Gray plopped Trulie down hard on the square corner post of the inner garden’s low wall. “I willna have it,” he roared. He set his hands on either side of her hips and got right down in her face. “Yer a stubborn lass. I’ll gi’ ye that. But ye best learn that I am even more stubborn. When I see what I want, I claim it. And once I make that claim, I always protect what is mine.”
“I am not—”
“The hell yer not!” Gray shouted. He tangled his fingers in her loosely braided bun, yanked her forward and kissed her hard. Mine. A guttural growl shook through him. Mine echoed through his being as he unleashed the claim into the kiss.
Gray finally jerked back. “Ye will stay here,” he ordered. Then he turned away just as a roaring explosion shook the ground.
—
Billowing black smoke shot through with orange flames engulfed one side of the stables. Horses’ screams and frantic shouts filled the air as both animals and humans reacted to the chaos.
Trulie hopped off the stone, hiked up her skirts, and took off at a dead run. Like hell was she going to sit idly by and watch the madness like it was some sort of show.
Scrawny stable boys staggered through the yard with sloshing buckets of water. Men and women came running from all directions. Some stopped to soak yards of cloth in the troughs then hurried to slap the sopping wet rags against the base of the flames. Rearing horses foamed at the mouth, their eyes rolling white with terror.
Trulie danced around the dangerous hooves of a pair of roans being coaxed to safety by a boy who couldn’t have been more than eight or nine years old. She ducked underneath the center rail of the wood fence encircling the training paddock. She needed to get close and reach out with her senses. She had to find Gray.
A watering trough nudged up against a side of the building not yet engulfed with flames caught her eye. Yes. Right there. The shadowed corner called out to her like a beacon through the chaos. Trulie’s heart pounded as she backed up against the wall and wedged herself in the dark corner next to the trough.
Trulie blocked out the shouts and screams of the melee. She forced herself to shut away the stench of choking smoke, muddied earth, and manure. She had to focus. Where the devil was Gray? She had to make sure he was safe.
Earlier in the stall, just as she’d blissfully lost herself in the pleasure of Gray’s kiss and the anticipation of what would soon follow, her mind had filled with the vision of the pending blaze. Echoing screams of terrified animals had drummed in her ears. An angry bellow had followed a deafening crash and then her senses had filled with the worst sound of all: cold, hollow laughter. Heartless laughter had blocked all else from her mind. She’d never forget that sound as long as she lived…and she had to make sure the owner of the laugh failed at whatever evil he was attempting. She couldn’t bear to hear it again.
A relieved tingle spread gooseflesh across her skin. There. Gray was right there. Trulie shimmied under a tangle of wagons waiting to be repaired and raced around to the outer back wall of the stable. Her heart fell when she spotted the barricaded doors. Someone had worked hard to ensure an escape out the rear of the building would not be possible.
A crashing woosh sounded as the front half of the thatched roof collapsed inward. Black smoke billowed up past the orange sparks showering through the air. The barred doors of the stable shook as something solid hit them. A horse screamed and the doors shook again.
Trulie covered her ears with her hands. The terror echoing in the animal’s cries broke her heart.
An angry bellow roared just behind the doors right before they rattled with another heavy impact on the other side.
Trulie knew that roar. Gray was trapped with one of the horses.
She had to get that post moved. She frantically glanced around the back lot. The clan was battling the blaze from the front of the stable. There was no time to run for help. It was all up to her. Trulie set her shoulder against the wide oak beam butted up against the door and shoved. It didn’t budge.
“Dammit!” Trulie leaned into it again. No luck. The heavy length of lumber barely shifted with her effort. Time to change strategy. She wrapped her arms around the post and yanked upward. The thing still didn’t move from its wedged position.
Tendrils of smoke escaped through cracks in the rear wall. The fire was slowly eating its way to the back
of the stable.
Trulie stepped back one more time and examined the jammed beam of wood. Maybe if she crouched under it and lifted with her legs, she could pop the thing out of the way. Leverage was her only hope.
Just as she was about to crawl under the beam, the doors shook again but they didn’t move with nearly the intensity as they had the last time they’d been struck.
“Gray. Hang on. I’m gonna get you out of there. Just hang on.” Trulie scrambled underneath the six-by-six wood beam. She centered the solid bar of wood down her back and locked her arms against the side of the barn. With a deep breath, Trulie shoved upward as hard as her legs could push. The beam shifted a bit to the side then wedged atop the cross latch set across the door.
“Dammit!” Trulie panted as she staggered a few steps back. She had to do it again. She had to make this work. Trulie stretched the flat of her back underneath the pole. She inched down to the part closest to the ground until her bent legs were effectively wedged between her body and beam. She angled her feet in opposite directions against the pole and kicked upward with the mightiest shove she could manage. A breath of relief exploded from her chest as the beam finally popped free and tumbled down to the ground beside her.
Trulie rolled to her feet and wrestled the cross latch out of the way. She ignored the rough wood splintering into her fingers as she clawed the doors open.
Trulie’s heart nearly stopped as daylight poured into the smoke-filled stable and illuminated the back aisle. The mighty black Cythraul lay motionless, and stretched out on his side beside him, with an arm thrown across the horse’s neck, was Gray.
“You are not going to die on me, Gray MacKenna.” Trulie clenched her teeth and dropped to her knees. Hungry orange flames crackled ever closer as Trulie scurried forward on hands and knees to Gray.
Trulie hurriedly took in the situation. There was no way she could physically drag the man or the horse to safety, and there wasn’t time to run and get help. But if she healed them here—Trulie sent up a silent plea to the Fates to let it be so—if she could heal them, maybe they could reach safety under their own steam.
My Highland Lover (Highland Hearts) Page 14