The next eve, as he stood with Davie impatiently awaiting the arrival of Rose and Fee, Ram was equally impatient to banish the day’s last MacKenzie messenger. The youngest brother, Michael, was the final MacKenzie shot over the bow, delivering the same brash warning as the others, but with less bile. Despite all the warnings, Ram knew full well that he owed Flora nothing whilst he owed Rose much. In the contrary manner of obligations, she who was due nothing would gain all while she who was due all would gain nothing.
Michael came on this fool’s errand because his father and brother insisted–but mostly because Flora cried when he refused. Michael expected to fail in this errand as surely as any marriage between his sister and Laird Sutherland would fail. He knew that the same way he knew that Rose was one of the people approaching behind him. Ram’s expression told him. The bloody man looked like he’d swallowed the moon.
Rose and Fee joined Ram, Gillis and Michael. The ladies walked up to stand between Gillis and Michael, with Rose ending up at Michael’s side. Ram responded to that by walking over to stand behind Rose. He was wrapping his arms around her waist when she stepped to the side, shoving Fee to make enough room for Ram to stand at her side.
“Wise choice, sweets,” Ram said, grinning, “but it’ll nae help that response.”
“At least I won’t have to feel it,” Rose replied in a low whisper, overheard by everyone in the group because Highlanders developed excellent hearing early as a survival mechanism.
“Aye, you will,” Ram replied, not bothering to whisper for he knew his neighbors’ keen sense of hearing.
Rose sniffed and frowned at him. “In that case, perhaps Michael can join me for dinner this eve to provide proper supervision for Fee and Gillis.” She turned towards the man on her other side. “Michael, would you care to-“
“Ach, lass,” Ram said. “We dinna waste anything, including words. Michael would accompany you anywhere, especially while you’re wearing that gown and looking like Spring sunlight glinting through a thick grassy meadow. He’s thinking that like rose buds in Spring, your buds look ready to flower and burst right out of that gown. I’ll bet he’s having the same response right now.”
“Stop that,” Rose scolded, slapping Ram’s forearm.
Catching her hand, Ram gave it a wee squeeze. “Michael’s having that response and he’s not touched you a’tall–nor will he, for I believe he’s sense enough to know I’d kill him were he to try.”
“Rose,” Fee said, for she knew that even her friend could only push the laird just so far. “You’ve agreed. I’m certain that Michael has plans elsewhere in any event.”
“I’d be delighted to join you in chaperoning Fee and Gillis, but not as delighted as my sister would be to have me do so,” Michael said “Your sister, yes,” Rose said, unaware that her face dimmed with the reminder, but it made Ram want to break out into a Highland Reel. “By all means, Laird Sutherland,” Rose said, trying to slip her hand from Ram’s grasp, “we should accept Michael’s gracious offer to avoid giving your fiancée the wrong impression.”
Ram grip on Rose’s hand was soft but firm, and an awkward moment grew more so as Rose’s unobtrusive effort to free her hand turned into such a tug of war that Fee couldn’t contain her glee. Rose did not appreciate her friend’s amusement and she gave Fee a narrow-eyed glare that promised retribution. Giving in with ill grace, Rose finally asked Ram for her hand back.
“I think I’ll keep it,” Ram said.
“It is one to a customer, Ram,” Michael said. “And I quite agree with Rose about the wisdom of not giving Flora the wrong impression.”
“No you don’t,” Ram said, meeting Michael’s eyes without evasion. “You worry that I’ll give Flora–and everyone else–the right impression.”
“I think you’ll not do that for if you give everyone at the games the right impression you’ll steal Rose’s chance for happiness,” Michael said.
“Stolen happiness,” Ram said, lifting Rose’s hand to his lips, “now that sounds familiar.”
Ram and Rose stood, with his lips pressed against her fingers, staring into each others eyes in a way that excluded the world. They stood so long that Michael said a quiet curse, turned on his heels and left, heading back to his family’s camp for a long talk with his sister. They might have stayed lost in each other forever, had Fee not finally walked up to Rose, put a hand on her shoulder and said, far too brightly, “Well, I dinna know about everyone else, but I’m famished.”
Startled, Rose gasped and stumbled, but she fell into Ram, prompting him to forgive the interruption with a smile and a gesture towards the forest. Fee and Gillis took the lead, figuring they’d find the picnic spot eventually and neither having much confidence that Ram and Rose were actually following. It turned out that Fee and Gillis were wrong–but they were also right. They’d already found the lovely spot, sat down, poured themselves some wine, made their plates, and commenced eating before their chaperones appeared.
This time, Ram didn’t just hold Rose’s hand. His arm encircled her waist and he whispered to her as they approached–something naughty, surely, Fee thought, considering how pink Rose grew. Fee and Gillis both had Highland hearing but they couldn’t catch a syllable, mainly because Ram bent down to whisper them in Rose’s ear. Because the pair also had Highland eyesight, neither missed the quick flick of the laird’s tongue at the end of his blush-inducing confidences–though ‘twould have been hidden from most.
Gillis winked at Fee before he spoke up in a booming voice. “And a fine pair of chaperones the two of you make! By now, I could’ve compromised Fee a pair of times at the verra least!”
“Oh, my,” Rose said, putting a hand on Ram’s forearm in a gesture that screamed possession to the pair who watched. “I fear we’ve been negligent, Laird Sutherland.”
Ram folded a hand atop hers. “If ye address me by title again, sweets, I’ll take you back where we were and prove how verra negligent we could have been.”
“You’re terrible,” Rose said, rolling her eyes.
Ram grinned, and extended his hand to help Rose sit, using care that a priceless antique would envy. Rose broke out in nervous chatter that did nothing to disguise her slightly askew hair, the wee pink area at the base of her neck or her full, just kissed lips. The gold dust in her eyes sparkled every time she glanced at Ram. His eyes glowed as bright as he bustled about taking care of Rose.
‘Twas the latter which had Fee all agog and Gillis purely scandalized. Both naturally expected the laird to sit at his ease while his companion filled his plate and his goblet before doing the same for herself. Instead, Ram poured a goblet of wine and handed it to Rose with a remark that she must be parched. She agreed to being a bit thirsty but apparently ‘twasnt for wine, as her eyes never left Ram as he turned to the food, asking with each item he put on the plate whether she cared for this or preferred that. At the end, he added two large slices of ham, saying he was particularly partial to it these days.
Rose said, “Me too,” but her voice quivered and her hand holding the wine trembled visibly. Ram quickly coiled back to settle beside her, wrapping his left arm around her and sliding her over until she leaned against his chest. He sat the plate so that it rested on both their laps and guided the goblet she held to her lips while he crooned, “Don’t. Please don’t, sweets.”
“I never thought of ham as an emotional issue,” Gillis said, while Rose sipped the wine.
“You’ve not regarded it properly,” Ram said, nudging Rose to guide the goblet to his lips. After he’d sipped the sweet liquid, he reached for the plate and his hand hovered over the ham, but Rose made a wee noise so instead he picked up one of the berries he’d piled on the plate because of Rose’s partiality for the fruit.
Ram watched her bite the Tayberry with an intensity he normally employed for scouting an enemy camp before a raid. He envied the elongated reddish-purple fruit and longed to cover her mouth with his to share the last, tart bite. She groaned low and asked for m
ore so he complied.
He picked up a slice of the ham for himself, winked at her, and bit into it.
Gillis asked about the games, at which they should arrive the day after tomorrow. The men were discussing the gathering and the games when Fee quietly asked Rose whether she favored David or Hugh.
Fee knew she should be ashamed of herself for the question. ‘Twas a deliberate tactic. Fee and Gillis had already eaten while it appeared that the laird could spend hours, days even, feeding Rose in a deliberately sensual fashion. Gillis wasn’t much for conversation. His interests ranged from eating, to fighting to fornicating. Fee discovered the latter when his hands commenced getting grabby after watching Ram for a few minutes. Fee knew that her friend had no choice but to consider the other lovely lairds. Fee also knew that her laird was more likely to invite the King to a clan raid than to allow any man access to Rose for any reason.
Fee was poised to skedaddle as the words left her mouth. ‘Twould take a head start, but with one she could beat Gillis back to camp. Rose replied that she was considering both seriously. Fee darted away before her friend got the last word out of her mouth. Fee heard Ram’s roar at the same time she heard bodies shifting. Barely a heartbeat passed before she heard Gillis rise and run after her. The daft man actually called for her to “wait up.”
Rose’s heart had no time to beat after her answer or before she found herself flat on her back, wearing a goblet of wine, a cornucopia of berries–and Ram, most of all, Ram.
“What in bloody hell do ye mean by that?” Ram growled.
“Get off me and let me go,” Rose snapped.
“Seriously considering both? Like fucking hell ye’re seriously considering both!” Ram’s oath was loud enough to fetch a guard. Normally, the warrior who approached the edge of the dining area would’ve aided any female in distress. Normally. But his laird baring his teeth and growling like a rabid animal wasn’t a’tall normal. Not being an utter idiot, the guard decamped, advising his cohorts to leave it be. They all recalled the laird’s order: “Allow anyone to leave but no one to enter.” It made perfect sense now, of course–now that they knew what they’d only suspected.
“I don’t want to get dragged back to England to marry Jack,” Rose confessed. “I would appreciate your ceasing to stage scenes like this one and helping me become better acquainted with your friends.”
“Which of my friends should have the honor of raising my child, you mean?” Ram asked, sprawled atop her, controlling her with his weight, holding her hands with one of his and stilling her legs by winding his inside her ankles. But it wasn’t close enough, didn’t feel like it would ever, could ever be close enough. “I’ll tell you now, with resolute certainty, that I shall rear our child.”
“A baby?” Rose asked, ashamed that she’d not considered the possibility and then overcome by a memory more potent than shame. “You mentioned it–that day in the cavern. And you–we–Why? You must’ve already proposed to Flora at that point so, why?”
Her words, her expression, her tone, just her–she ripped out his heart, his soul, and his fearchas. She ripped them out to twist and tangle until the only certainty in his world was that his survival, his very existence depended upon his taking her, sinking into her, absorbing her, keeping her, claiming her, soothing her, protecting her, comforting her and holding her close until eternity ended. Even now, he lay atop her fully aroused as she forced him to face truths he wouldn’t see and couldn’t reveal.
His face twisted and he knew grief darkened his eyes for it surely dimmed the light in his soul, but he’d hide it from her no longer. “I did not propose to Flora.”
She shook her head no. “You did it,” she took a breath that tried to hide a sob, “that very day. You proposed that very day. And although I explained about Jack you’ve still not helped me further my acquaintance with your friends. In fact, you keep exploding at the very suggestion. Is it that you’d never have your friends wed a hand-me-down?”
“A hand-me-down?” Ram asked, releasing her hands to cup her face. “I’d not have my friends wed you. I’d not have anyone else wed you. It doesn’t speak well of me, I know, but I, ahm, ahm.” Ram’s voice trailed off before the admission, but dearest Scotland, ‘twas the truth and she deserved it. “I’m not strong enough to have you marry another man.”
‘Twas a whopper, told as tenderly as the palms cradling her face, but unable to hide the larger whopper lying against her lower belly. “Yes,” Rose said in a voice as full of starch as a priest’s collar, “I can feel your trauma and your weakness.” She thrust against him once. “It’s poking me in the belly.”
“Well it’s in the wrong place then, isn’t it?” Ram snapped, his temper prompting him to toss up her skirt, sending berries flying as he shoved his erect staff as close against her as the fabric of his kilt and her drawers would allow. “You caused this so ‘tis rightfully your task to care for it, is it not?”
“My task?” Rose asked. She balled her hands into fists and struck his chest with about as much effect as she’d have moving a mountain. In fact, she enraged him more, for the hands holding her face tightened and he wiggled his hips and scooted his kilt up, wedging his bare sex against her thin drawers.
“Yes,” Ram said, “your task. If you alone have the ability to cause this,” he wiggled again, making himself pant as he finished, “then ‘tis your task alone to satisfy it.”
In the long silence that fell with his last unreasonable word, enough of his vision cleared for him to realize that her features were slightly askew, distorted by the press of his hands. He gasped from that before he realized that the slight tremble of her lower lip was echoed in her entire body.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he said as he wrapped his arms around her waist and rolled them onto their sides, right into the bread and the berries. “Don’t. Please, don’t. I would never hurt you.”
She bit her lower lip to try to hold it still and willed herself not to cry. Only her voice held tears when she asked, “Isn’t it too late for that?”
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Ram asked, stricken. “I lost my temper and I got carried away and made love to you but–I didn’t hurt you. Tell me I didn’t hurt you.”
“I was afraid you were going to do it again,” Rose said.
“Afraid?” Ring asked. He’d known, when he saw that tremble. He’d known, but he hadn’t believed it. “How could you possibly fear me? You feared that I would-”
“Get carried away again,” Rose said, finishing his sentence for him because she couldn’t risk letting him speak for himself. “Now that we’re past that, let me go and I’ll collect myself and we can return back to camp like two civilized adults who are friends.”
“You were afraid that I would express my love for you physically again,” Ram said, choosing his words very carefully. “That is what last time was, you know. I was too jealous and scared to behave rationally.”
“Scared?” Rose asked. “You fear nothing, Laird Sutherland.”
Ram rolled over, too fast for her to even put out a hand to bid him to stop. Poised over her, with his eyes holding hers too openly, too directly to allow for evasion, he corrected her. “Not long ago that was true but you’ve changed that as you’ve changed me. Today, there are things I fear and they all involve you. Chiefly, I fear losing you, but I also fear seeing you hurt or hurting you.”
Even though his change of position made her tremble harder, it also pressed his erection against her personal region. She turned pink from the naughty things she had no business feeling for this man. That made her angry enough to speak her mind. “Yet, you’ve done all that of late, and very thoroughly too.”
What she wanted to emphasize wasn’t what he heard. “I’ve not lost you,” Ram said, sweeping a loose tendril of golden hair away from her face. “I’ve …not….lost you. You’re still mine.”
She opened her mouth but he swallowed her ‘no,’ taking her lips with a ferocious tenderness that held not a trace of the ferocit
y chasing through his eyes. And she was still his because she couldn’t close her eyes as his lips danced across hers, a waltz performed in perfect harmony. He didn’t lift his lips until they panted in each other’s arms, one with the music made by their heartbeats.
“No matter where life takes us, no matter what plots or sacrifices are forced upon us, we won’t loose each other,” Ram said. “We are too joined together to exist apart. You must see that.”
“Whether or not that is so,” Rose said, “we can not exist together.”
“But we can,” Ram said, “and we must. And moreover, it will break no vows that I am forced to make.”
“It would break many vows,” Rose said. “Some of them are mine. In many ways, our most important promises are those we make to ourselves. Whatever your morals may allow, I’ve promised myself that I shall never break a marriage.”
“And you shall not,” Ram said. “I may have to agree to a legal union with Flora, and I may have to do what is necessary to make it legal, but I’ve no intention of making it a marriage. Duty does not stretch to that extent.”
“You speak of force and duty. ‘Twould seem that you see yourself as something akin to a yoked horse. I see no yoke,” Rose said. “Please move so that I can rise and we can agree to end what I have tried to end since I learned of your betrothal.”
“Just because you can not see the yoke doesn’t mean it is not there,” Ram said. Then he did look away, he had to in order to close his eyes and seek the strength to keep his father’s dishonor a secret, unknown to any save those involved. ‘Twas his debt to the sire he loved.
Rose misread his expression, for her voice gentled, holding a note of sympathy. “Ram, an invisible yoke does not exist save in your mind. Once I am gone you and you and Flora will bond. You shall recall all you have in common, all the reasons that you decided to commit to the union.”
Romancing the Rose Page 17