The Chief's Maiden (Border Series Book 3)

by Cecelia Mecca

  Unfortunately, that didn’t apparently extend to this particular Englishwoman. He needed to touch her. He needed to make love to her. It was wrong—even with Hedford’s revelations, there was much left to settle—but he didn’t care.

  He had to be inside her.

  As she opened for him, he slipped his tongue into her mouth, claiming it in the same way he wanted to claim her body. Not holding back, Toren kissed her with all the pent-up passion that had tormented him since the moment he’d left Condren. Juliette began to writhe against him, and he encouraged it with his own movements.

  Though he was not surprised that Catrina had lent Jules the breeches—his sister always wore them for riding now, a habit she’d picked up from Lady Sara, Geoffrey Waryn’s wife—he’d wanted to throttle each and every man who’d looked at her. A possessive impulse demanded those were his curves to touch, and his alone. But now, with just a thin layer of fabric between them, he was glad she hadn’t worn a shift and thick gown. He pressed against her, pulling her closer still.

  “Jules,” he whispered along her neck, having released her lips to prime her for what was to come. He kissed the sensitive flesh at the base of her neck and moved lower still, untying the woman’s tunic Catrina had lent her. The garment gave him the access he hungered for. Dipping his hand beneath it, he lifted her perfect breast to his mouth. She gasped as he began to tease the hardened nipple. He flicked it with his tongue—lightly at first and then with increasing pressure—and then took it into his mouth completely.

  As he suckled her, Toren grasped her other breast in his hand. He knew he’d succeeded in pleasuring her when she arched into him, moaning with pleasure from a slight nip with his teeth.

  When he began to lift the loosened tunic, she raised her arms to allow him. He looked down and nearly lost control at the sight. They’d been together in the dark, and though the sun had already begun to wane, he could see her clearly. Two beautiful orbs tipped with beautiful rosy nipples that he couldn’t resist touching once more. The waterfall rushed down around them, urging him to give in. Urging him to take her.

  “I want you inside me,” she said, staring into his eyes.

  As always, he offered as much honesty as he could. “I don’t know what will happen between us, Jules. I would be with you, always, but the king may not allow us to be together.” Toren could tell she was confused, but it was the only explanation he could give her.

  He’d sent another message to Douglas asking, nay, begging, for the king’s order to be revoked. With the bailiff now in prison, Hallington’s innocence had been proven. He’d been undermined by his own staff, and while it certainly didn’t recommend him, the fact that he was not a traitor meant there was no longer a need to remove him as warden.

  Certainly no longer a need to kill him.

  And Lord help him, Toren didn’t think he was capable of killing the man after what had transpired between him and Jules. He loved this woman, English or nay. His sister had guessed as much, and she’d begged him to tell Jules the truth about his mission.

  Earlier, when she’d claimed to know all, his insides had frozen. Could it be true? But her knowledge was limited in a most important way. She did not know his mission had been to end her father’s life. She couldn’t ever know. If she did, she would never look at him this way again.

  And he needed her to look at him this way. To see him as a good man.

  When Jules reached for his shirt and pulled it up over his head, Toren was completely undone. He gladly assisted her, discarded the garment, and pulled her against him.

  “I like how that feels,” she said.

  Though they were only partially unclothed, he couldn’t agree more.

  Her hands explored his bare shoulders and arms, and he stood still, letting her do as she wished. The look of pure joy on her face convinced him that she had not yet had her fill. He was hard and ready, had been since he’d first seen her golden braid in his sister’s hall. Yet Toren was perfectly content to relish in the feeling of her fingers tracing his bare skin.

  He was content to wait.

  Or so he thought.

  When her hand moved to his lower back and then trailed a path toward his front, he stiffened. She wouldn’t. . .

  She did.

  Jules lowered her hand and rested it there, on top of his trews. His cock hardened even more, if such a thing were possible. It pounded beneath her hand, demanding more from him. She looked up at him, her gaze questioning whether it was advisable. He had just begun to unlace himself when a shout in the distance wrested him out of the haze of pleasure.

  “Toren!”

  He jumped away, pushed Jules behind him, and grabbed his sword from the ground even before he could determine where the shouts had originated.

  A short time later, three riders approached, the sound of the horses’ hooves drowned out by the waterfall.

  His sister was riding toward them with two guards. Catrina dismounted and ran toward him. Toren positioned himself so Jules’s state of undress was shielded from view.

  “Bloody hell, woman. What are you—”

  “Toren, you need to come quickly.” She didn’t so much as attempt to look beyond him, and his possessive anger shifted to fear. What had worried her so?

  “There’s been an incident,” she continued.

  “You’re as maddening a lass as ever, sister. What kind of incident warrants—”

  “Hallington.”

  He could feel Jules move behind him. “What happened?” she asked, her voice small but unwavering. She was likely mortified to have been caught in such a position, but she hadn’t allowed it to hold her back.

  Catrina didn’t flinch. “Reivers,” she said. “The injured party made their way to Bristol. One is badly off. He will not likely live, but Evelyn is with him.”

  If anyone could save a dying man, it was Bristol’s old but competent healer.

  “What does my father have to do with the attack?”

  “One of the victims foolishly threatened the reivers would be brought to justice. The man apparently responded with, ‘I’ve enough coin for the warden’s deep pockets.’”

  “Who are these men?” Toren asked. “Clearly they cannot be trusted? Hallington has been vindicated. They’re likely—”

  “Clergymen. They made their way west to Whithorn.”

  He froze.

  “Whithorn? What are they doing this far south?”

  Catrina shrugged. “Lost, I’d imagine. They don’t appear properly prepared for such a journey. But you both should—”

  “We’re coming.” He gave Catrina a pointed look. “We will meet you at the manor.”

  “Oh. Of course,” she said, finally understanding. She turned and walked back to the other riders.

  They quickly began to dress.

  “These reivers could be lying. Or mayhap they’ve heard the rumors. Or—”

  He kissed her, wanting more than anything to finish what they had started. There would be plenty of time to explore the implications of this attack. For now, he was sorry for the interruption.

  “We’ll speak to them,” he assured her, reluctantly letting her go. “You can ask as many questions as you’d like.”

  She gave him a wide-eyed look, and he could tell she was surprised to have been included. It was not the first time Jules had been taken aback by such a thing.

  “Of course. You are just as involved as I am. More so.”

  Her bright smile told him it had been the correct thing to say. Fully dressed, they made their way toward Catrina and the others. If only he was as optimistic about the outcome.

  An attack on clergymen. Blatant disregard for border law. Something dangerous was afoot.

  It was worse than he’d imagined.

  Evelyn was not hopeful the injured man would live, and by rights, his attacker should be brought to justice. This was no mere cattle raising—the clerics had been robbed and beaten for no good reason. Reivers’ blatant disregard for the law was the
reason the Day of Truce had first been conceived thirty years earlier.

  When Toren listened to the survivors’ tale, he was inclined to believe it, including that an accusation had been made against Hallington. Only a man without fear of retribution would be brazen enough to say such a thing. The reiver, at least, believed he could bribe his way to continued freedom.

  After a subdued meal, the household retired early, but Toren could not rest. He made his way to the top floor of the keep. Once a solitary building, the old tower house had originally been built for defense—a purpose it still served.

  After capturing Bristol, Toren had often retreated here to look out toward his home. Odd to be back as a visitor. . . the guard stationed not far from him was the same one who’d nodded to him countless times as he stood on these very parapets. Against the advisement of his kinsman, he had retained as many men who wished to stay.

  The sound of footsteps advised him that he was no longer alone. Toren turned, not overly excited about the intrusion—even less so when he saw it was Bryce Waryn. If it was company he sought, his brother-in-law would not have been his choice of companions.

  “What will you do?” Bryce asked, stepping onto the parapets and coming to a stop beside him.

  “If I knew, you’d not be the person with whom I’d share my plans.”

  The large black steel torch holders scattered around the parapets held flaming torches, giving the space a foreboding appearance. In the distance, lanterns were spaced on both stone walls, only one of which could be seen at this distance. Waryn had been busy since Toren had last been here.

  “Keep in mind, Kerr, if your sister had not sent me up here, I would be in a warm bed with a willing— ”

  He glanced over his shoulder, daring the man to continue.

  And so they stood at an impasse.

  He understood why the Waryns held him in contempt. He’d overseen the raid in which their parents were killed. Though they had not died at his hand, and the raid had only been undertaken on the king’s orders, he had apologized to the Waryns. He understood the pain of losing a parent, and they had lost their parents and their home on that same ill-fated day.

  He was still sorry for it. Even so, his voice was bitter when he said, “So you’re here to gloat?”

  There was just enough light to make Waryn’s face perceptible. He looked serious, as ever.

  “We can continue to despise each other,” the man said. “Or recognize that you and I are now related, thanks to the woman currently sprawled—”

  “Waryn—”

  Bryce’s lips turned up ever so slightly. “Tell me your plan.”

  “You speak as if I have one.”

  Waryn waited. “You are very much like your sister, except in this.”

  He looked at the man Catrina had chosen to spend her life with. It had been obvious from the moment she had returned home to Brockburg that she’d left her heart behind. With Waryn. The Catrina he had helped to raise was full of life. A mite brazen, but intelligent and strong. The one who had returned to him had been sullen and silent. She’d spoken incessantly of Bryce Waryn even while claiming to despise him for his eagerness to kill her brother.

  If only he were confident his own situation with Jules would end as happily.

  “Except in what?”

  Bryce paused and looked at him square in the face. “She believes in other people. Aye, perhaps she is trusting to a fault, but at least she gives them a chance.”

  “I don’t need your lectures, brother.”

  He trusted plenty of people. His siblings. His steward. Brockburg’s priest. Gregory Campbell, to an extent.

  And Jules.

  “You can trust me, Kerr. Allow me to help you.”

  Toren cocked his head to the side. Trust the man he’d tried to kill? Who’d reciprocated with vigor?

  It was becoming difficult not to do so despite himself.

  The corners of Waryn’s mouth tipped up and he shrugged. “Catrina said if we didn’t make peace, she’d lock us both in the buttery until we were incoherent. And even then she may choose not to let us out.”

  Toren imagined the two of them in that small space surrounded by wine and had to admit it was not the worst plan he’d ever heard. “Very well,” he relented. “I sent word to Douglas apprising him of Henry Rode’s arrest. With information I managed to gather while at Condren, I’d begun to suspect Hallington’s innocence, but having such proof should make my argument easier.”

  “And what is your argument?”

  This was where his plan was questionable, at best. “That Hallington should remain warden. As unfortunate as it is, I don’t believe the clergymen’s account of the reivers counts as much more than rumor, albeit one the reivers, and others, obviously believe. Hedford claims Hallington was absent from the tournament because he was deep in a plan to reveal Rode as the traitor. The pieces had already been in place before the tournament started. Before I was sent on this fool’s mission.”

  “So you’ll not tell Douglas of what happened here today?”

  “’Twould be a form of treason for me not to do so.”

  “You didn’t answer the question.”

  Though he knew he could trust Waryn, it was uncomfortable for him to do so.

  “Dammit,” he muttered. Then, “Nay, I will not be relaying this particular incident.”

  The other man’s response was automatic. “I agree you should not. Douglas may not care that the traitor has been uncovered for the same reason that these reivers think they’re safe. Rumor can be as damaging as truth, and what happened today will only make it worse. If peace does not collapse, then Rode’s actions will be forgotten. The rumors may not be.”

  It was exactly what he had been thinking.

  “Of course, your role is still very much in question,” Waryn continued. “If he orders you to carry out the mission nonetheless, you’ve a larger problem still.”

  And that was where this conversation would end. Damned if he’d take advice on love from this particular man.

  “Tell Catrina I said your counsel was most welcome,” he said sarcastically.

  Waryn did not take offense. “If you’d like my advice, dear brother, on how to handle the matter of your future bride, you know where to find me.”

  Before he could reply, the Englishman began to walk away, but not before he called back, “Occupied in my chamber with the beautiful woman I call my wife.”

  Bastard.

  17

  After Juliette took mass with Catrina and Christina, she wandered the grounds. It was no surprise to her when she found herself in the gardens. At home, this was where she always went to think.

  The reivers would be long gone by now, but the men had gone to track them. She suspected they were using it as an excuse to hone their precious battle skills.

  Now that they had brought their message, Juliette assumed Christina, or at least her husband, would want to discuss their departure. Neither of them had mentioned it, and Juliette was eager to take all of the time they’d allow her.

  Christina was fully supportive of her love for Toren now, and Juliette had passed Catrina’s test. The waterfall ride had been her idea. Which meant she’d passed her test.

  So there was only one person left to convince: Toren himself.

  “There you are.”

  Juliette bowed her head in deference to her hostess.

  “My lady.”

  “Nay. Catrina, remember?” The other woman pulled her toward a room opposite the entrance to the hall. One that had clearly been added onto the original tower and now served as the lord and lady’s solar.

  It was a handsomely appointed room. The furniture ornately carved and— “Oh my!”

  Books. . . so many of them.

  “Where are these from?” She raced to a shelf stacked with at least thirty manuscripts and ran her hand along the leather that bound one of them together.

  “Some are from Brockburg,” Catrina said with a smile. “I can read
as well, but not in so many languages as you. Perhaps you can read for us this afternoon?”

  Either Toren or Christina must have told her about that particular habit. Juliette was about to pull one from the shelf, but she turned first to seek permission.

  Catrina waved her hand in acknowledgment, so Juliette took one down and opened it to an elaborately illuminated page. The gold-leafed scene was one immediately familiar to her, though she’d never seen such a rendition before. She touched it, feeling the edges carefully and admiring the bright reds and blues of the illumination.

  “Le Chevalier de la Charrette,” Juliette said breathlessly.

  Catrina looked over her shoulder at the beautiful pages in her hands. “The Countess of Kenshire gave me that as a wedding gift.” She was clearly amused. “Her idea of a jest. So you know this is the first tale to feature the love affair between Queen Guinevere and Lancelot?”

  Juliette turned the page, marveling at the beauty and detail. This page was just as elaborate as the last. The scene featured the tower where Guinevere had been held prisoner.

  “Aye,” Juliette answered. “And Lancelot makes no apologies for being with a married woman.”

  She closed the book and carefully replaced it.

  “So it is true?” Juliette asked. She had not thought she’d be so bold to ask, but Lady Catrina was easy to speak with, and the question slipped from her lips before she could stop it.

  “Aye, ’tis true. Bryce held me captive, originally planning to ransom me to Toren. ’Tis a complicated tale that I am happy to share with you one day.”

  But not now. Juliette could tell her hostess wished to speak with her on another matter, and she could guess the topic.

  “Your brother,” she said bluntly.

  Catrina lifted her arm, pointing to the books. “You are welcome to them,” she said. Then a voice—her husband’s—called out her name from the hall, and she turned to leave the room. “And Toren,” Catrina said with a smile, leaving as quickly as she’d come.

  So. It was as she suspected. But gaining the permission of Toren’s sister, although it was a quite nice and unexpected boon, was not her primary concern.