“Are ye done yet, lass?” Gray shifted in place but remained spread-eagled at the door.
Screw it. Surely they could be quiet enough no one would know. Trulie tiptoed across the room. A delicious shiver stole through her as she smoothed her hands up Gray’s back. “Do you swear on your favorite horse’s life you’ll be quiet?”
Gray didn’t turn, but Trulie immediately felt his body tense and heat up beneath her hands. “Och, aye, lass. I swear on Cythraul’s life. I’ll be verra quiet.”
Trulie pulled her shift away from her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. She ran her hands up beneath Gray’s plaid, smoothing her way along Gray’s well-muscled thighs. Gray’s buttocks tightened as she pressed her naked body to him.
Gray inhaled with a sharp hiss. “Lore, woman. Ye feel good against me, but I’d much rather have ye in front o’ me.”
“Soon,” Trulie whispered as she reached around and tickled her fingers down his stomach. Stealth sex was pretty exciting. Trulie shivered again and snuggled tighter against Gray.
Gray groaned as Trulie wrapped her fingers around his cock and pulled.
“Shhh. You said you’d be quiet.” Trulie cupped his sack in the other hand, straddled one of Gray’s legs and arched her wetness against him as she stroked him again.
“Aye,” Gray replied in a strained whisper. “I…will.” Gray shifted in place.
Trulie ran the tip of her tongue up Gray’s backbone and pulled again.
Gray jerked. His ribcage expanded as his body tensed.
“Are you holding your breath?” Trulie giggled as she nibbled a trail of kisses along the salty sweetness of Gray’s skin.
Gray rolled out of Trulie’s hold, stripping off every stitch of clothing in one yanking motion. Jaw clenched, he snatched her up, slammed her against his chest and covered her mouth with his.
Trulie wrapped her legs around Gray’s waist and hungrily welcomed the raw need of the kiss. It had been too long since he’d been inside her.
Gray slid her lower in his arms, successfully impaling her on his shaft. He clenched her ass in both hands as she clamped her thighs tighter about him.
“Not a sound, love,” he whispered against her lips.
“Not a sound,” Trulie panted as she arched against him.
Gray lifted her up and down with slow deliberate thrusts. Trulie moaned into Gray’s mouth, plunging her tongue deep to keep from crying out.
Gray lowered her back across a heavy round table in the center of the room. He lifted her hips and yanked himself deeper into her heat. His hands slid up to her waist as he slowly eased his way out then slammed in hard again.
With both hands clamped on the edges of the table, Trulie bit the inside of her cheek to keep quiet. Crime-a-nitly. If Gray didn’t move faster, she was gonna die. “Harder,” she finally breathed out. She dug her heels into the small of Gray’s back and urged him forward. “Harder. Now.”
A sly grin spread across Gray’s face as he clamped his hands tighter about her waist. “As ye wish, m’lady.” The grin disappeared as Gray hammered into her.
Son-of-a-bitch. Now that’s more like it. Trulie rolled her head to the side and arched her back. The coppery taste of blood filled her mouth as she bit her cheek against screaming. The room disappeared as Gray pounded her straight to ecstasy central.
Gray froze, clutched her hard against him and groaned. He tensed for a long moment, then slumped across her with a great whooshing exhale.
Trulie wrapped her arms tight about him and kissed his sweat-dampened shoulder. “Well done,” she panted as she laced her fingers through his hair and snuggled her cheek against his.
“Aye,” Gray whispered back. “Well done, indeed.”
Chapter 18
Gray shifted from shallow sleep to alert wakefulness. He didna move. He took care to barely open his eyes as he scanned the darkened room. Nothing moved in the shadows. Nothing seemed amiss. Gray raised his head slightly, as though shifting in his sleep. The wooden chair creaked in protest against his moving weight. Other than Trulie’s soft snores and the sound of the quietly hissing fire, Gray heard nothing.
Sharp clicks, then the rhythmic pat-patting of toenails sounded against the flooring not covered with pelts. Karma huffed a warning woof out into the darkness. The dog waited but a second then rumbled a deep vibrating growl.
Gray rose from the chair and slid to the foot of Trulie’s bed in one fluid movement. The dog sensed something too. Whatever Gray had heard had not been a dream. Gray slid his dirk from its sheath and palmed the worn haft with readiness.
The steady grind of stone against stone sounded from the shadows. Gray crouched behind the end of the bed and peered over the mound of blankets. The far wall was definitely moving, but how could it be so? Only Gray knew this particular stretch of the tunnels honeycombed throughout the keep.
The grinding sound stopped. Karma growled louder, daring the intruder to enter the room. A dark mass flew through the air. A wet plop splatted as it hit the floor over beside the hearth. Gray crouched lower behind the bed, straining to make out what had landed in front of the fire.
A great black shadow moved toward the object. Firelight glistened off Karma’s rich-black coat as the dog eased up on whatever had hit the stones. He snuffled the object, raised his head, and looked back at Gray as though trying to tell the man about what he had discovered.
Tension cramped Gray’s muscles. Lore, he wished he knew what the dog was trying to tell him. Karma snuffled the wet-looking pile again and raked a paw across it. The dog shifted, kept his head low, then rolled down to his side.
Dread stabbed through Gray as he watched Karma go limp. Had the dog succumbed to some sort of poison? Shadow and light danced over the dog’s still body. Gray couldna tell if Karma was breathing or not.
A rustling movement from the secret passage drew Gray’s attention back across the room. He would have to tend to Trulie’s dog later. It was now up to him to protect Trulie from whoever dared enter the room.
A cloaked form shuffled into the half-light of the room. Gray rolled the knife in his hand, gripping the handle tighter. He strained to recognize the intruder, but the darkness, paired with the hooded black cloak, hid the person from him.
The nose-burning scent of fresh pitch alerted Gray just as the hooded figure swung a wooden bucket out from under the cloak. Gray jumped from behind the bed just as Karma sprang to life and lunged across the room.
A shrill cry screeched through the darkness. The wide-bottomed bucket of pitch thudded to the floor, wobbled, and splashed the noxious contents, but didn’t tip over.
“Now!” Trulie cried as she popped upright in bed. She freed herself from the tangled sheets and hopped to the floor.
Karma attacked. The enraged dog’s roaring snarl sent chills through Gray’s bones. The animal sounded like a primal beast tearing into its prey.
The cloaked figured screamed again, kicking and flailing against Karma’s gnashing teeth. “Leave me, demon,” a voice cried out as Karma yanked away the cloak and several layers of wadded-up clothing.
Beala kicked and scrabbled away from the dog. She held a pale, bloodied arm tight against her torso as she pulled herself through the closing crack of the moving wall.
Beala? Gray stared in disbelief as the maid’s pale hand disappeared into the inky darkness and the wall slid shut.
“Stay here,” Gray ordered as Trulie scampered up behind him.
“Like hell,” Trulie snapped as she nudged Gray forward. “I’ll stay behind you but I’m not staying here.”
A frustrated growl tore from Gray’s throat. The stubborn woman would be the death of him. “If ye dinna manage t’stay out of harm’s way, I swear I’ll flog yer bare arse in front of the entire clan.”
Trulie agreed with a solemn nod.
Gray triggered the hidden release for the passage and the panel of stone wall slid back open. He grabbed a torch from its bracket and held it high as he led Trulie and Karma into the da
mp tunnel. “She could take several paths,” he muttered as they came to a narrow turn that split into three different passages.
“Karma can track her,” Trulie whispered. She patted Gray’s side in the narrow confines of the tunnel. “Scooch over and let him up front. We’ll follow him.”
Gray squeezed to one side against the damp, slimy wall. “Aye. Motion the lad forward. His senses will serve here much better than ours.”
Karma wiggled past, then paused in front of the three tunnels with head lowered. His snuffling snorts echoed through the winding chambers. Karma exploded with a violent sneeze, then dropped his head again. Suddenly, he swung toward the passage farthest to the left. He slowly tilted his head to one side then dove into the passage.
Gray held the torch extended, hunching forward to keep his head from hitting the dripping ceiling. His shoulders scraped against either side as they slid deeper into the bowels of the maze. Gray hated narrow confines. Lore, a man could barely breathe in here. “I’ll snap the woman’s neck with m’bare hands whenever we find her.”
“No,” Trulie argued. “If you kill her, how will we find out what her deal is?”
Both of Trulie’s hands held tight to the back of Gray’s plaid. Gray took comfort in her tiny fists pressed against the small of his back. Their slight pressure somehow calmed him. “What the hell d’ye mean what her deal is?”
Trulie lightly patted the center of his back. “You know…her story. Why she’s doing what she does.”
Gray grunted. He didna give a damn what the woman’s story was. She could tell it to the demons when she arrived at hell’s gate.
A panicked scream sounded just up ahead, followed by Karma’s deep, threatening bark.
The stench of stale urine and human excrement hit Gray full in the face as he pushed into the room. He swallowed hard against the bile rising to the back of his throat. He covered his face with one arm and turned back toward Trulie. “Stay back. The air reeks.”
Trulie coughed and gagged behind him. Apparently, his warning came too late. The lass had already gotten wind of the putrid mess.
“Call yer demon off,” Beala screeched as she crouched beside a low-slung cot crafted out of knotted limbs and a stretched hide.
“Karma, tha’ll do,” Gray ordered. He kept his arm over the lower part of his face and took shallow breaths through his mouth. ’Twas a wonder the dog had not turned tail and run for want of fresh air.
Karma eased back a few steps, a warning still clicking deep in his throat.
Gray raised the torch higher, shuddering at what the flickering light revealed.
Lashed to the cot with bindings of leather and strips of filthy rags, lay an emaciated Fearghal. Dark stains pooled out around his skeletal body and dripped to the floor. His lower jaw sagged open as his blindfolded head leaned against one bony arm stretched above him, chained to an iron grommet jammed into the wall.
“What the hell have ye done to the man?” Gray swung the torch toward Beala where she cowered at Fearghal’s feet.
“I cared for him.” Beala’s face beamed with a tender expression as she pawed at the exposed flesh of Fearghal’s twitching ankle. “As soon as m’dear one sees reason, us two will travel the world as man and wife.”
“She’s insane,” Trulie whispered as she pressed against Gray’s side. “But she had to have help. How could she get him down here by herself?”
Gray wondered the verra same thing. Fearghal was nay strong by any means, but surely the man could overcome such a slight maid. “Who helped ye with…this?” Gray blinked hard against the noxious fumes burning his eyes.
“I needed no help t’bring my dear, sweet lover to m’bed.” Beala rose and sat on the edge of the makeshift bed. She rubbed a filthy hand in a circular motion over her slightly distended abdomen. “M’fine man put a babe in me belly. He loves me. He goes where’er I ask.”
The fool walked into his own death trap. “Yer with child?” Gray asked. “Fearghal’s child?” he added.
Beala’s wild eyes grew rounder as her head bobbed up and down. “Aye. The babe’s been planted well o’er four moons gone now.” She leaned forward and stroked Fearghal’s slack jaw, smiling down into his face. “My lover will soon be a da. I ken it will be a fine braw laddie. I ha’ seen it in a dream, so it must be so.” Beala cupped Fearghal’s face between her hands and cooed over him in a spine-tingling singsong voice. “A son for m’fine man. A son t’make him love me all the more.”
Fearghal shifted slightly and a faint moan escaped his cracked lips.
“Ye see?” Beala turned to Gray with a beaming smile. “M’lover sings along.”
Gray struggled against the rise of vomit churning to be released. He had to get all of them out of here. Now. He raised the torch and maintained eye contact with Beala as he nudged Trulie backward. “Out. Now,” he whispered. “We can do nothing here. I’ll send men to move them both up into the keep.”
“You know she’s lost it,” Trulie whispered. “You know she doesn’t know what she’s doing.”
“I know.” Gray nodded as he urged Trulie backward. “But that does no’ mean she can do whate’er she wishes.” With a glance back at the deathly squalor and filth, Gray rasped out a promise more to himself than Trulie. “Justice will be done.”
Chapter 19
“Open the window,” Trulie suggested. “Maybe some fresh air will help him.”
Coira moved across the room and tied the tapestry back with a rope of braided cloth. “Nothing will help him, mistress. He has the look of death about him.”
Trulie glanced down at Fearghal’s glassy-eyed stare and silently agreed. It was just a matter of time. Fearghal’s body was shutting down. She and Granny both had tried to heal him several times. But each time they surged the energy into Fearghal’s broken form, the power ricocheted right back out. Fearghal’s fate was set. He would soon reach the end of this life’s path.
“Well, then.” Trulie blew out a dismal sigh and pressed a damp cloth against Fearghal’s sallow cheek. “We can at least make sure what time he has left is as free of suffering as possible.” Trulie inhaled deeply, filling her lungs against the memory of Fearghal’s prison. If she’d been imprisoned in a stinking dark hole, she’d want all the fresh air she could get.
Coira stood at the end of the bed and frowned down at the wasted man. “It surely had t’be terrible trapped down there with such a girl.”
Trulie nodded. There were some things worse than death.
“He’s reaping what he sowed,” Granny observed from her chair beside the hearth. She lowered her sewing to her lap and peered at the girls over the top of her wire-rimmed glasses. “Coira, didn’t you say Beala was the girl Fearghal bullied into thinking if she didn’t give him what he wanted, he would have her kicked out of the keep?”
Coira nodded with a glance back at the emaciated man. She moved to a small stool beside a table filled with dark vials and bundles of dried herbs. The color deepened in her cheeks with the memory. “Aye. Beala was the maid.”
“Be that as it may,” Trulie interjected. “I think Fearghal has been punished enough. If we treat him badly now, then we are no better than he is.”
Granny scowled off into space for a moment before returning her attention to the embroidery in her lap. She licked the tips of finger and thumb, then smoothed them the length of the dark thread. Squinting as she twisted the end into a tiny knot, she finally spoke. “Well said, granddaughter.”
Trulie returned the rag to the bowl of lavender-scented water sitting beside the bed. She jerked around as the chamber door slammed open and bounced against the wall.
“Tamhas! Must you explode into the room? Our nerves are already shot because of the past few days.” Trulie pressed a hand against her chest, willing her pounding heart to calm down.
Tamhas arched a bushy brow and waved away Trulie’s reprimand. “Ready yerselves. Aileas has returned.”
This wasn’t going to be pleasant. Trulie smoothed her damp
hands down the sides of her dress. Gray had sent for Aileas as soon as they had emerged from the tunnels. Who knew how much longer her son would last? A contented feeling of pride warmed Trulie and settled her nerves. Even though Gray despised Aileas, he would never deny her what would most likely be a last visit with her son. Gray was an honorable man.
“Did her carriage just get here or is she actually on her way up?” Trulie nervously glanced around the room. They had done their best to make Fearghal as comfortable as possible. Surely Aileas wouldn’t find fault with the room and make a bad situation even worse.
“What have ye done w’my son?” a nasal voice bellowed from the hallway.
Tamhas snorted out a disgusted grunt and glared at the door. “I believe tha’s yer answer.”
Lovely. Trulie took a deep breath and faced the doorway.
Aileas blew into the room like a huffing black storm cloud. Her dark skirts shushed a warning as they shifted about her rotund form. In each of her fisted, masculine hands, she clutched fluttering squares of lace-covered linen. Her reddened cheeks paled to a lighter shade of pink when her gaze settled on what was left of her son.
“M’poor wee laddie.” Aileas stifled a sob with one bit of linen as she rushed to his side.
Fearghal didn’t respond. His slack-jawed stare remained fixed on the stone wall beside his bed.
With a shaking hand, Aileas smoothed a bent finger down the length of Fearghal’s sunken cheek. “What the hell ha’ they done to ye, laddie?” She wheezed in a shaking breath as she tucked his hair to one side. “I ne’er wouldha left without ye if I’d known. I thought…” Aileas’s voice quivered to a higher pitch as tears streamed down her face. “I thought ye’d gone on ahead as we planned. I thought ye’d a’ready left this accursed place.”
Trulie swallowed hard and sniffed against the tears stinging her eyes. No matter what Aileas had done, she was still a mother whose child was about to die.
“How did this happen?” Aileas choked out the words without taking her gaze from Fearghal’s face. “Who did this to m’wee laddie?”
My Highland Lover (Highland Hearts) Page 21