“There is tell of English about. One of the men said as much before he passed.”
“We dinnae need a stranger. Cousin Bram will be here soon.”
“And if the English are upon us before then?”
The sound of chopping stopped. Ceana imagined the mutinous look on her sister’s face. She didn’t need to see her properly to know her sister had perfected the expression. A lass as stubborn as her sister wouldn’t look any other way.
“We’ll fight them off. Fraser says I have the courage of a man, and he can help too.”
“Dadaidh will have my head if I let ye near the lad. He’s trouble.”
“He’s no’ trouble! He’s a good man and he believes in me. I wish ye would too.”
Ceana jabbed a finger in her general direction. “I’d be more likely to trust in ye if ye didnae play me false all the time.”
Something thumped against the table and Ceana jumped. “I dinnae know why Dadaidh put ye in charge. How can ye protect us? I’m better off protecting myself. Now you want to bring a handsome highlander in to our castle all because yer desperate for more attention. Are ye missing having all the men bowing and scraping, is that it?”
Reeling from the words, she had to brace herself against the wall. It wasn’t the first time Kate had spat such declarations at her and she doubted it would be the last. And in spite of it all, she knew her sister loved her. It just seemed as Kate aged, these outbursts grew worse and worse. Was she as much trouble at six and ten? She’d have to ask her mother later.
“Kate, I think this man can help us,” she said softly. “Be nice to him, I beg of ye.”
She wasn’t going to argue with Kate—particularly not on the subject of men. There had only ever been one, many seasons ago, and she had never noticed any bowing or scraping since.
Her sister released a disgusted sound. “Why do ye have to try to please everyone? Och, I’m no’ taking him his food. Ye can take it. Go flirt with the warrior and get him to bend to yer will like everyone else does. I’m going to see mamaidh.” A whistle of air and fabric breezed past her and footsteps receded up the steps.
Ceana drew in a breath and held it for a moment. She wished her father or their brother were here. Alec was two summers younger than herself but formed the link between the three of them. She suspected Kate was missing him sorely.
Edging her way forward, she found the table and fumbled her way across to the edge of the tray. It would be no easy task navigating the dark steps but she was confident she could manage to serve the warrior without giving away her lack of sight. Tray in hand, she made her way to the stairwell and took them cautiously.
It seemed it would be up to her to charm Blane—alone.
Chapter Three
The chamber in which he’d been placed was far more than he’d been hoping for, but Blane wouldn’t utter a word of complaint. His weary bones needed the thick blankets and soft mattress. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d slept in a proper bed. The fighting had meant much time sleeping on the ground or in castle halls on thin straw pallets—if he was lucky.
Servants had finally made themselves known after he’d finished his meal and two lasses were pouring him a bath. If it wasn’t for his large appetite, he likely would have pushed the food aside. The way Ceana watched his every move with that unapologetic stare made his stomach bunch.
And not with unease either.
He liked it.
What a fool. Blane eyed the two women, the younger one of whom had given him several encouraging smiles. She was fair enough and it had been a long time. But images of big blue eyes jostled his mind and any idea of taking the lass to bed seemed to vanish like the steam rising from the bath.
Not wishing to give her false hope, he turned his attention to drawing off his muddy boots and placing them to one side. He perched on the edge of the bed and surveyed the room. A guest chamber apparently, though it seemed more suited to the chief of the clan with fine tapestries on every wall and a carved coffer and chair to one side. The deep red fabric about the bed appeared aged, with worn patches in the fabric, but it would have been expensive nonetheless.
He knew little of his hostesses but he was beginning to suspect they were not so poor.
“There ye go, sir.” The younger lass offered him that inviting smile. “Yer bath is ready. I can take yer garments to be washed if ye like.”
“I thank ye. I’ll have them ready for ye shortly.”
Blane had no doubt the girl would happily strip them from him but he needed to quash any ideas she might have. His appetite for a female body had been diminished mostly by Ceana. He couldn’t quite understand why but, hell, he should respect her anyway. After all, she took quite the risk offering him shelter.
Aye, that was it. Respect. He merely wished to show her his respect. His weary body wasn’t up to much anyway. It was much better this way.
Disappointment turned the woman’s smile into a pout, and she dipped. “As ye will, sir.”
He sighed when she left. It wasn’t like him to turn down a willing woman, particularly not after so long without. His time had been spent travelling and fighting before travelling on and fighting some more. Blood and pain comprised his world and any pleasure was a welcome relief. He shoved a hand through his thick hair. So why could he not have taken his relief then?
The curling steam of the bath beckoned to him like siren’s fingers so he turned his attention to his plaid. He touched the pin that held it in place and grimaced. Mud and rain had eaten away at the metal and it protested when he tried to force it open. His big fingers were next to useless on the small pin. He’d have to break it and see if he could not ask Ceana for another.
The door creaked open and he lifted his gaze to see Ceana enter. She stopped in the doorway, a hand to the frame. “Yer bath is poured?”
“Aye.” He motioned to the tub but her gaze remained on the bed, just beside him. Blane glanced around to try to establish what had caught her attention but to no avail.
“Do ye need aught else?”
“Nay, I thank ye. Though—” he tapped the pin “—I could do with the use of yer hands.”
Her eyes widened.
“That is...” He coughed. “My pin. ‘Tis stuck. I need a woman’s hands to remove it I fear.”
“Oh.” She took a cautious step forward. “Of course.”
He stood and she inched closer. A palm landed on his chest and her gaze lifted to his. Deep down in his gut, something tugged. He shouldn’t make use of the opportunity to study her properly but he couldn’t help himself. Blane eyed the little uptilt of her nose and noted the narrow, pale scar slicing across her forehead. How had she gained that?
Her delicate mouth drew his attention as she smoothed her hands across his plaid and her fingers came to rest upon the metal. A trail of fire seemed to follow her touch and then she pursed her lips...
He near groaned.
Did she have any idea how sensual she was? How her slow movements gave him a chance to admire her? How those eyes seemed to eat into his very soul as she gazed up at him? She was bold too. Never casting her gaze down when he locked on hers.
A whisper of breath grazed his collarbone as she unpinned his plaid and pushed it from his shoulders.
It would be so easy. A little movement and his lips would be upon hers. Would her courage continue, follow her into bed? Or would she bolt like a frightened creature? He grasped her wrist and she jerked.
She’d bolt. Her boldness was a disguise mayhap.
Blane urged her hands away and she let them fall to her sides. Was it his imagination or did he see her posture drop a little? She couldn’t understand how tempting she was. How much he wanted to fling her on the bed and possess her with every part of his body. Even if she wanted him, she had no understanding of the sort of man he was. He wasn’t deserving of one moment of her time let alone her body.
“Thank ye, I can manage now.” His voice came out hoarse, as though he’d swallowed rocks.
“Well—” she clasped her hands in front of her “—I shall bid ye good night. Rest well, Blane.”
His body stiffened at the use of his name. The soft timbre of her voice ricocheted through him and he turned away quickly lest she see the effect. “Goodnight,” he said firmly and waited until the door shut before moving again.
Blane stripped efficiently and climbed into the wooden tub. It was more than he could have expected. A quick wash by the well or in the loch would have sufficed, but his aching muscles loosened in gratification. He scrubbed a wet hand over his face and tried to force her voice and her features from his mind. Ceana fascinated him and he couldn’t be sure why. Beautiful, aye, but no more interesting than any other attractive lass, surely?
It mattered not. He pushed himself completely under and let the water cover him for several moments before coming up and drawing in a deep breath. On the morrow he’d continue hunting his prey.
And he’d have his revenge.
He finished washing and dried himself on a linen towel. Aware of the many women in the household, he put on his shirt to sleep in. At home, he preferred to sleep naked but he’d spent many a night fully clothed of late so it would be no hardship. Blane blew out the candles and slipped into the bed.
Though he released a sigh as the mattress cradled his weary body, tension sat in his muscles. It was easier, somehow, to stare up at the night sky and not be besieged by memories. Here, wrapped in a blanket of gloom, images flashed in front of his vision. Even when he closed his eyes, they were there—the dead, the dying. Men, women and children.
The sounds of the castle—the odd creak and the drip of water from somewhere seemed to change. That creak became a scream. That drip was blood draining from the woman in his arms. Blane gritted his teeth. He was a warrior. He’d been fighting since he was a lad. Blood and the horrors of war were commonplace, and it should not impact him this way. Yet he’d never slaughtered innocents nor come across such savagery.
At some point, the sounds faded. Blood red was replaced with unearthly blue and Blane sighed. Ceana was a welcome balm. Besides, what harm could it do to imagine her curled next to him for now? He’d managed not to touch her and he’d leave with the dawn. In his mind, however, he could do as he wished.
He couldn’t be sure when he’d fallen asleep but when the squeak of wooden floorboards awoke him, he realised he must have been deep in slumber. Darkness greeted him. He went for his sword only to recall he was no longer sleeping on the hard ground and his weapon was in the armoury. He relaxed his arm and listened.
There. Footsteps outside. Ceana? His heart bounded in his chest. It was foolish to hope and if she did come to him, he should send her away. Whether he actually would, he knew not.
The door eased open and blood roared in his ears. Blane pushed up onto his elbows and squinted as candlelight spread though the room.
“Ceana?”
Nay. This was no beautiful, curly-haired temptress. He narrowed his gaze to make out who the figure was. A woman—an older woman—with grey-streaked, dark hair. She came toward him and he recognised the features. Though creased, they were like Ceana’s.
He opened his mouth to say something but she jabbed a finger in his direction. “Ye’ve come for my daughter, have ye not?”
Blane scowled. “Nay.”
She came closer and sank onto the end of his bed. A thin hand reached out and he froze when she cupped his cheek. “Yer handsome. Ye’ll do nicely.”
“Do nicely?”
“Aye. Ceana needs a strong man. Ye’ll please her.”
“I—”
“Mamaidh!”
Two more figures stumbled into his room. Light spilled in behind them, likely from a lit torch in the hallway. He resisted the urge to groan. These Malcolm women were a handful. He hoped they didn’t have any more hidden away. Kate came forward and pulled the woman off the bed.
“Time for bed, Mamaidh,” the lass urged.
“I was just visiting with our guest,” she protested.
“Aye, but he needs his rest.” Kate drew her away and Ceana came forward.
“Forgive my mamaidh. She meant no harm. She sleepwalks.”
“’Tis no bother.”
Ceana took another step forward. “I hope she didnae—” Her words were cut off with a tiny cry and she stumbled. His boots, he realised too late, as he caught her arms to prevent another fall. She fell into his lap in a crumpled heap. Her arms were bony, her legs long and slender. Blane fumbled to help her up and his hands came to her waist.
He could snap her in two with such ease. That awareness brought forward a surge of protectiveness. Did she go without so others could eat? It seemed likely somehow. The need to protect waned quickly when he became aware of soft, warm skin against the thin cotton of her chemise. She smelled of lavender and he inhaled deeply, drawing her back into the cradle of his lap.
“B-Blane...”
Ceana curled her fingers into his shirt. There was no hiding his arousal and no doubt she felt it against her. He pressed aside her riotous hair. All he wanted was a little taste. Perhaps a small touch. And if the way her body slowly unfurled into him, Blane suspected she felt the same.
The glow of the torches outside was enough to highlight her lightly trembling form. Her nipples pressed against the thin chemise and her pale skin begged for his lips. He eyed the creamy expanse of her neck and heard her shuddery breath. He’d seen her fear before and this wasn’t it. Ceana wanted his kiss as much as he wanted to give it.
With deliberate caution, he brought his mouth to her neck, just behind her ear. Another tremble ran through her and he tightened his grip as though lending what little strength he had left to her. The fragile length of her body fit perfectly against him and he was already imagining her laid out and bare for him.
Blane skimmed his lips down to her collarbone and up again to her ear. One finger under her chin, he coaxed her face around and stared into those evocative eyes. He saw no hesitation or fear. Taking one last, long draw of her warm scent, he lowered his mouth—
“Ceana!”
She wriggled against him like a trapped bird. “I must go. Kate needs me.”
He wanted to keep her there. Hold her and bid her to be selfish. To let him kiss and touch her until she forgot her sister and mother. But he recognised something in her that resonated with him—the need to look after others. He’d failed his duty of care so he wouldn’t prevent her from doing what she needed to.
Blane released her, even while doing so tore at his gut and created a heavy ache in his chest. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d wanted a woman so badly.
“G-Good night, Blane,” she whispered before turning away. She pressed aside his boots with a foot and moved carefully out of his bedchamber. He couldn’t help wonder if her slow pace meant she didn’t wish to leave him or was mayhap hoping he’d drag her back, but the brief moment of not touching her had brought him back to his senses.
The door closed behind her and he sank onto the bed, his hands behind his head. He had revenge to seek.
Ceana was a distraction he didn’t need.
Chapter Four
Even as the morning sun touched her skin, Ceana recalled the touch of something far more wonderful.
Blane.
A frisson ran through her body. She paused to look up at the bright sky, grateful for its light and the relative freedom it brought. Outside, shapes and colours were clear enough for her to be able to behave almost as any other woman might. She yanked on the rope and drew up the bucket to prop it on the side of the well.
She dipped her fingers in the icy water and dabbed it on her neck. Ceana couldn’t blame the sun for the heat traversing her body. Nay, it was the memory of being held in Blane’s arms, of his lips so close she could feel the heat of his breath.
He had intended to kiss her, had he not?
Part of her wished he had. It had been so long since she’d felt a man’s touch. Her husband had died over six sum
mers ago in a skirmish on the border and finding another was not so easy—not with her broken body. Who would want a wife who could not perform her duties properly? Who could not even entertain him in bed? Danny had been understanding but he’d loved her deeply. She couldn’t expect a man who hardly knew her to accept her failings.
However, she wasn’t sure she’d decline him if he tried again. If all went well, she would persuade him to stay for a while. So how then would she continue to hide her troubles? It was too dangerous for it to be known that the keep was under the control of a near blind woman.
Ceana considered the disturbance last night. What if her mother’s behaviour had damaged her chances of persuading him to stay? As much as she loved her, she was becoming a handful. Her father had a calming influence over her, but these past months had brought on more sleepwalking and erratic behaviour.
Releasing a weary sigh, she lifted the bucket and paused. She watched the figure walk across the mud toward the stables. There was no doubting it was him. Dark hair, tall, and he moved like a wolf. Stealthy, nimbly. Her vision might not be enough to make out the lines of Blane’s muscles that she knew were there but she saw enough to recognise the power in his body.
Panic fluttered in her chest as he ducked into the stables and she dropped the bucket. Water splashed her side but there was no time. He was leaving them. He couldn’t go, he simply couldn’t. She needed him.
Careful not to trip over her skirts, she hastened across the grass as fast as she dared. Ceana felt hard mud under her slippers and put out a hand once she reached the doorway of the stables. She curled it around the wooden frame and put her head in. Her vision dimmed and the world became close to a mystery again.
“Blane?”
“Over here.”
She entered the stables and silently counted the wooden struts to where she knew his horse would be. “Oh.” Hard, muscled chest greeted her and she staggered back only to be grabbed and righted.
“Forgive me.”
She shook her head. “Nay, ‘twas my fault. I wasnae...” How could she explain?
I Left My Heart in Scotland Page 20