Flame

by May McGoldrick

  She started across the room and then hesitated, studying him with a somewhat guarded expression. Then, at last resolving the issue that was holding her back, she nodded and closed the distance between them.

  Gavin didn’t realize that he had been holding his breath until she began to sit. Watching the soft, golden braid that now trailed down her back, the span of creamy skin showing above the neckline of her dress, the Lowlander openly admitted to himself that learning the truth about the past six months was not the only thing on his mind.

  “I hope you are not planning on standing behind me while I eat!”

  “I...well…I plan to do no such thing,” he said as casually as he could, taking his own seat beside her. His knees brushed against her skirt, and he noticed how quickly she adjusted herself in her chair, moving it until a discreet distance existed between them. Then she turned her deep blue eyes back to his face. He flushed, suddenly feeling again like a lad at the abbey school, and the thought raced through him that a man could happily drown in the depths of those eyes.

  “So you know the Macphersons?” Her question was punctuated by a growling noise from her stomach that had the sound of a charging boar.

  As the color abruptly rose in her face, Gavin was reminded of the sight of wild flowers in an open field. A noisy open field, he thought wryly, but a bonny one, nonetheless.

  “Aye, I have known the family for many years.” He turned to the food and began to serve her. “Though I must admit that Ambrose was the one who introduced me to the rest of the family.” Placing a heaping trencher before her, Gavin next reached for the pitcher and filled their cups with wine. She stared at the food but hesitated to start, so Gavin reached for a piece of bannock cake and tore it, handing her half. This was all the encouragement Joanna needed.

  “And you?” he probed.

  “I have only had the pleasure of getting to know Elizabeth and Ambrose.” She paused and closed her eyes after she took the first bite. The expression of pure pleasure on her face made Gavin envy the food she ate. With the longing of a pauper, he watched her full lips pause as she savored each bite before taking the next. What he wouldn’t give to have those lips against his.

  By His Wounds, Gavin thought with a start, if he didn’t say or do something to distract himself from this line of thinking, he would be hauling her on his lap in a moment.

  “You...” he stumbled, searching for something to say. “You never met Alec Macpherson and his wife Fiona at court?”

  She opened her eyes and glanced at him with some embarrassment. “I am sorry, what was it that you asked?”

  “I said I...I wondered that you were not one of the legion of women at court who spent their time mooning over John Macpherson.”

  The severity of her scowl almost made him laugh. “This was not what you said! You said something about Ambrose’s older brother and his wife!”

  “So you did hear me! And yet you pretended to be lost on the moor somewhere.”

  “I was just testing your honesty,” she replied casually, turning her attention back to the food before her. “And your temperament.”

  Gavin leaned back and watched her with amusement as she started again on the supper. “So I failed!”

  “Aye, miserably,” she answered, swallowing a mouthful. “But I’ll disregard it this time and give you another chance.”

  He gave her a bow of the head. “And I will take that chance!”

  Joanna gave him a small smile as she took a sip of wine from her cup.

  The warrior felt the hunger stirring within him, but he knew that food would offer no remedy for it. His eyes brushed over the soft lines of her throat. He could see the flicker of her pulse beneath the ivory skin. Clenching his jaws together, Gavin leaned back and crossed his arms over his massive chest, watching her as she continued to eat.

  “So back to my question,” he probed, reaching over and lifting his cup of wine. “About the Macphersons.”

  “Aye, I met Fiona and Alec, but only once, at Elizabeth’s studio. And nay, I never mooned over John Macpherson. But then again, I never met him, and I know many who do think...highly of him.” She raised a brow and looked seriously into his face. “Now that you mention it, I must say that Ambrose failed me in not introducing me to his younger brother, the good Lord of the Navy, when there was a chance. But if he had...and if he be anywhere near as handsome as his two older brothers...” Joanna gazed at him with the innocence of a lamb. “Who knows, perhaps I might have joined the moonstruck legions at his feet.”

  Gavin glared at her for a moment. “You have a devil in you, Joanna MacInnes.”

  “And you seem to bring it out in me.”

  “I asked a simple question.”

  “Aye, a question tainted with your mischief. You deserve worse than you received.”

  “Humph,” he snorted. “To be told a Highlander, particularly one as ugly as John Macpherson...not that I do not feel a fondness for his family...well, to be told that the lout is handsome...!” He looked at her with shock. “If you are implying that he is superior to...”

  “You just have to learn to accept your flaws.” She patted his arm gently with a bandaged hand. “But, being a Lowlander and a Border man, to boot, you surely must be accustomed to such comparisons.”

  Gavin growled at her, and Joanna quickly snatched her hand away.

  “Well, perhaps I shouldn’t be so harsh. I shall try, in the future, to be more gentle.”

  With a pitying look, she hid a smirk as she turned her attention back to her food.

  She had a sense of humor. She had charm. And she had beauty. By His Wounds, Gavin thought, what had she been doing locked away in these vaults for the past six months? Add those qualities to the wealth she brought to a marriage, and she became the kind of woman that men fought over, so often to the death. Men with power and wealth of their own--men like Athol and Gordon. Perhaps men like himself, Gavin admitted grudgingly. But never before, he added quickly, had he ever had the inclination or the desire to pursue any woman.

  Well, not for the purpose of marriage, he thought wryly, his eyes once again taking in her perfect features, her stunningly feminine form. But though Joanna brought out the deepest feelings of lust in him, already he felt that there was something more in this woman, this almost otherworldly creature whose very portrait had captivated him. He had only kissed her once, and yet some insatiable thirst had plagued him since, a whispering in his brain telling him over and over that he must have her. That he would have her. Not simply tonight or tomorrow, but for a time beyond the present--perhaps far beyond the here and now.

  Joanna looked up for a moment, and he found himself again drowning in the violet blue of her eyes. For perhaps the first time in his life, Fortune had condescended to smile on him, in bringing Joanna into his life. Something deep inside him--something he had felt stirring from the moment he had first laid eyes on her portrait--was telling him that he had been brought to the Highlands for a purpose. Now more than ever, Gavin felt the certainty that he and Joanna had been brought together for a greater design than just bringing justice to those who had murdered her parents.

  He took a deep breath and wondered if he should dare hope for such a blessing.

  “‘Tis quite unusual,” she said quietly, looking up and catching his eyes again. “I mean you from the Borders, being so friendly with a Highland clan!”

  “Well, my ancestry is tainted with a wee bit of Ross blood from my mother’s kin, so ‘tis probably a weakness on my part.” This time it was she who growled, a response that pleased him immensely. “But what you say is true,” he continued, looking away. “I know ‘tis rare indeed for a Lowlander to trust the wild, thieving blackguards that roam these hills. Exceptions do exist, though.”

  Gavin didn’t need to look up to feel the daggers that were blazing from her eyes. He reached for the pitcher and filled his cup, swirling it in his hand. He noticed now that she was already finished with nearly everything he had served her. She must h
ave gone without a solid meal for days, Gavin decided, perhaps weeks.

  “Every now and then, you know, ‘tis possible to find a fairly refined Highlander with whom a body might not be too embarrassed to be seen.” He swallowed a mouthful of wine and looked at her. “But did I mention, ‘tis rare?”

  “Aye, you did.” Without any ceremony, Joanna reached across the table and, picking up his untouched trencher, emptied the contents onto her own.

  “I can see there is no reason for any pretense of refinement when you already think me a barbarian!”

  “So you take my supper,” he complained, placing his cup back on the table and leaning toward her menacingly. “You know we Lowlanders are not known to share.”

  Joanna shrugged her shoulders as she reached in front of him and snatched the piece of bannock cake that he’d left, as well. “But we Highlanders have been known to steal!”

  With the speed of lightning, he caught her hand in his grip. They both glanced at the piece of bread still clutched in her fingers, then their eyes again met.

  “And we Lowlanders are known to take back what is ours.” Slowly, Gavin started to haul her bandaged fist--and the bread--toward his mouth. She tried to resist him, but her weak struggle could have no more affect against his overwhelming strength than a lamb might in the clutches of a lion. Closer and closer her hand moved to his mouth, until suddenly Joanna rose from her chair and, leaning over quickly, she took the bread between her teeth.

  “Ah,” she mumbled, her mouth full. “But we Highlanders are far too fast to get caught!”

  Gavin fought back a smile, instead glaring at her threateningly as she munched defiantly on the bread.

  “Return it to me!” he growled in jest, letting go of her hand and roughly taking hold of the braid at the back of her neck.

  Joanna shook her head as she fought his hold. “But especially, we are too fast for you lazy Lowlanders!”

  “You call me lazy?” He brought her face closer to his own, as he relaxed his rough grip on her hair.

  “‘Twould not be very smart for me to admit to that, now would it, m’lord?” Her voice suddenly turned silken in her defiance, her eyes smoldering with a glow of embers as she returned his gaze. All jesting disappeared in an instant as something far stronger than mirth took hold of the two of them.

  Gavin could wait no longer before tasting her lips. As he framed her face with his hands, his mouth supped on her full lips. “I believe I can taste my dinner,” he whispered wryly, drawing back a breath.

  She gave him a soft smile in return. “Nay. But perhaps they can send something up from the kitchens for you!”

  “Think what you like,” he replied, brushing his lips against hers. “But what I have in mind promises to be far more delectable than anything that cook Gibby could dream up.”

  CHAPTER 16

  He thrust quick and hard as her hips ground tightly against his loins.

  “Iris!” he cried out through clenched teeth, as bolts of fire shot through him and he poured his seed into the woman.

  After a moment, Margaret’s thin arms slipped around his slight frame as he lay exhausted atop her. And a moment later, when the man’s tears started soaking the mute woman’s shift, she ran her fingers soothingly over the rumpled linen of his shirt. As the weeping subsided, the man lifted his head and gazed down at the grave expression of the gaunt, almost fragile woman.

  “Why do you do this, Margaret? Why do you allow me to do such things to you?”

  Her reply could be only silence, and not even her eyes answered him. But her fingers continued to caress his face gently.

  “I know 'tis a terrible thing for a man to use a woman like this. Lust is a killing thing, to be sure.” He rolled off of her and onto his back, the back of his hand draping carelessly over his eyes. His voice had the low rasp of a knife on a stone. “And ‘tis worse still, that I only see Iris’s face when I lay with you. Our child planted deep in her womb is all I think of when I...”

  Margaret sat up and pushed her shift down over her exposed thighs. Reaching for a blanket thrown to the side of the straw pallet, she gently tucked it over the man’s naked sex.

  “Always fussing over me,” he muttered harshly. “Always kind and ready.”

  She let her fingers trail over the palm of his hand.

  “And I am so undeserving of you, Margaret!” The man’s hand lifted off his brow, and he looked deeply into the woman’s dark brown eyes. “And you never hear or understand a word I say. You never will reveal the terrible secrets that...”

  She watched him in silence, and he turned away.

  “My Iris betrayed me, Margaret. She could not help herself. ‘Twas her foul gypsy blood.” A fresh tear worked itself out of the corner of one eye. The mute woman reached for it and touched it with the tip of her thumb. The drop spread wet and shining over her callused skin.

  “I told her not to go to the laird,” he continued gruffly, the rough edges of anger creeping into his voice. “I gave her my word that I would think of a way. That I would take care of her and our child. But she was impatient, my Iris was. In the end, the vixen set her mind to ruin me.”

  He jerked into a sitting position and reached for a ewer of ale sitting on the floor. Taking a deep swallow of the liquor, he glanced with distaste at Margaret’s fingers gently stroking his arm. He pushed her hand away with a fierce, snarling sound, and then pulled his knees to his chest. He said nothing for a long moment, and the woman gazed intently at his face.

  When he spoke again, his voice carried all the anguish of the damned. “She deserved to die that night, you know.” He slumped back onto the bedding, covering his eyes with his arms. “There was no way for us, woman. I saw it clear as day then, and I see it now. She went to the laird, the vile sweet slut, and after that, there was no way to recover from the damage she caused.”

  He glanced at Margaret, a wild, tormenting misery in his eyes.

  “She deserved to die, I tell you!” he cried. “And he, too! He would have taken it all from me! All! He deserved to die as well!”

  The priest tore his eyes from the mute woman’s face and stared up for a long time into the blackness of the ceiling.

  After a while Margaret, nodding imperceptibly, placed a kiss on the man’s shoulder and lay her head on the bedding beside him.

  ***

  Joanna opened her lips and felt a moan emanate from somewhere deep in her own throat as his tongue swept into the recesses of her mouth. Wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, she snuggled closer on his lap, where he had drawn her only a moment ago. Losing herself in the depth of their kiss, Joanna felt a warm, pulsing haze crowd all thoughts from her mind, and she gave in to it, unafraid as an insatiable desire suddenly blazed within her, setting her senses afire. There was nothing else that mattered now. No one else existed.

  She so desperately wanted to feel him, to touch him, to taste that passion that had been so unattainable in her life. But she would not make the same mistake that she had before. She knew her end was near, but that was not something Gavin Kerr would accept lightly.

  Angling her head and allowing him to deepen his kiss even further, Joanna swore that she would not allow him to stop. Not this time.

  As if he could read her mind, he broke off the kiss, and she cursed herself for tempting fate. Her fingers kneaded the thick muscles of his shoulders and back, and threaded themselves into his soft, black mane as the warrior breathed deeply into her ear, crushing her body against his chest.

  “Joanna,” he growled against her hair. “Fire brought you to me, and from that first moment, flames have tormented my soul. I have been burning to touch you, to make love to you...to possess you.” His hands raked fiercely at her back, lifting her and pressing her even closer to him. “‘Tis not like me to lose control of my desires. To feel so...obsessed!”

  She raised her head and brushed his mouth with her lips, silencing him. “Are you certain ‘tis not the Joanna MacInnes who sits above your hearth whom
you intended to possess, and not me whom you desire?”

  “Nay,” he said intensely. “I want you. The bonny and formidable ghost who has been haunting my soul.”

  In his eyes, she saw the blazing passion that came from within, and his desire tore away the last of her hesitancy. To Hell with propriety. In his eyes, she was whole and beautiful, and the time had come for her to give in to the flame that would take them both to madness and to soaring passion.

  “I am no ghost, Gavin Kerr.” Joanna slid off his lap and moved brazenly between his legs. Amazed at her own boldness, she nonetheless undid the strip of the clothing that held the large dress gathered at her waist. “The time has come for you to see the rest of me.”

  His eyes burned into hers and she saw his jaw stiffen as she started pushing the large neckline of the dress first over one shoulder and then the next. “Joanna, this...this passion…you must know that I will have you and keep you forever.”

  “That you shall,” she whispered, lowering the dress from her shoulders and down to her waist. “For as long as life allows.”

  Giving it one last tug, the dress pooled around her feet, and she stood in the thin fabric of her chemise before his scorching eyes.

  Joanna shivered with excitement when he raised his hands to the cloth and ever so slightly traced the swells of her breasts. Her eyes followed the movement of his fingers, and she looked down and saw her nipples come to life beneath his touch. Then he ran his hands down her shoulders, slowly pushing down her chemise until it was only held by the tips of her breasts. She thought she would die of the anticipation that inflamed her. But then his hands moved down her arms, until they took hold of her hands. Suddenly aware of his intention, she stiffened.

  “Don’t.” She tried to pull her scarred flesh out of his grip, but he held them tight and raised her hands against his heart.

  “I’ll have all of you, Joanna,” he said hoarsely leaning down and placing a kiss on the tips of her fingers. “As you are.” He started unwrapping her hand. “I will possess all of you, lass.”