The man’s gaze wandered around the room before landing back on Elspeth. “He is teaching a lesson to a Lamont on the training field.”
Most of the men in the room jumped to their feet. Tables and chairs scuffed across the stone floor, some falling in the men’s haste to rush from the hall. Jamie made a swift bow to Elspeth and ran out after them.
“What was that about?” Laurie asked.
“Naught for us to worry over.” Elspeth calmly gestured to Cookie for the serving to begin.
Lunch was a hearty fish stew heavily seasoned with herbs. Smoked trout and spring greens followed, accompanied by wine. Wine, which had been watered to reduce its potency. Laurie would have much preferred a nice Californian pinot noir with the trout, but the food was surprisingly tasty and enjoyable. At least she wouldn’t starve to death while she figured out how to return home.
Duncan remained behind when the other men ran out. With the meal finished, he approached the dais platform upon a signal from Elspeth.
“We go to the garden,” she said. “Will you escort us?”
“Lady Elspeth, you ken gey fine ’tis my duty to guard the chief’s new lady-love. You dinnae need to ask.” He presented a broad grin, his eyes filled with merriment.
“I’m not his lady-love,” Laurie blurted through clenched teeth in an overly loud voice.
The room fell quiet as the remaining folk stared at her. Heat raced to her cheeks. Idiot. She should be more careful. The last thing she needed was unwanted attention.
While she silently chastised herself, a ruckus came from outside the door and all heads turned in expectation. Patrick swaggered into the hall followed by his men. He wore a large grin on his dirt-smudged face and his chestnut hair stuck to the sides of his cheeks with sweat. His plaid was filthy and blood stained the front of his shirt.
Her chest tightened at the sight of the blood. Had he been injured?
He glared across the room at her. His dark eyes burned with anger. She cringed. He must have heard what she said. He sauntered to the dais, keeping his gaze locked on her. Jumping onto the platform, he strode directly to her, grasped her hand, and held her fingers in a tight grip. He yanked her from her seat, forced her to stand beside him, tucked tight against his side, held in place with one strong arm around her waist.
She tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t allow it. Her nose twitched and she shrank back from him. He smelled worse than the men’s locker room at her old athletic club after a rugby match.
With Lady Laurie’s denial burning in his mind, Patrick was rougher with the lass than proper. Battle lust rode him hard. He wasn’t about to be denied by a mere slip of a lass. He would teach her a lesson. A lesson he thoroughly planned to enjoy.
Facing the crowd, he held her tight, waiting for silence. In a thunderous voice, everyone in the room would be sure to hear, he said, “I have sent the Lamont dog back to his master with his tail betwixt his legs.”
His clan cheered, stomping their feet and pounding their fists on the tables. Again, he waited for silence. Firmly holding onto Laurie, he ignored her struggles to escape his grip. When the crowd calmed, he cleared his throat.
All eyes riveted to the couple on the dais.
“I present to you the Lady Laurie Bernard.” He held her hand out in front of them so the crowd was sure to see he clasped it. “She has come to us from France to be companion to my wee sister, Lady Elspeth. Hear me. She is under my protection and shall be treated as my honored guest.”
Laurie subtly tried to free herself, but he easily held her in place. He flipped her hand palm up, bowed his head and placed a kiss in the center, licking her palm with the tip of his tongue.
Her gasp made him chuckle. He released her and boldly surveyed the room. Patrick grinned with satisfaction. Although there were a few grumbles, this public demonstration confirmed the castle rumors better than any other could. Those present knew, for certain, he claimed this woman as his own.
As his mistress, she’d be safe—provided she remained within the clan.
Still shivering from the sensation of his velvety tongue gliding over her palm, Laurie glanced around the hall. Everyone stared, many with smirks, while others harbored hostile expressions on their infuriated faces.
Mortified, she stepped down hard on the bridge of his foot. He chuckled at her lame attempt to hurt him. She wished she wore heels instead of soft China flats. Stilettos. Something that would do damage.
When he released her and stepped away, Elspeth leaned close to whisper. “Curtsy.”
Laurie wanted to slap the grin off Patrick’s arrogant face. Instead, she inhaled a bracing breath, swallowed her pride, executed a clumsy curtsy, and nearly fell to the floor.
He caught her arm in time to stop her from landing hard. “Now the whole clan kens you belong to me,” he said in a quiet voice, thankfully only she heard.
He’d the nerve to laugh, the hearty sound echoing through the hall. She wanted to spit in his face or knee him in the gonads. Feeling her temper escalate, yet knowing she dare not make a scene, she glared at the jerk.
Proud of himself, he kept eye contact with her for several long minutes, meeting her challenge with one of his own. Finally, his lips thinned and he released her arm, turning his attention to his sister. “I wish to have a bath sent to my bedchamber. I expect Lady Laurie to attend me. Will you see to it?”
Elspeth gave her brother a strange look before her usual serene smile returned to her lips. She rose from her seat and executed a perfect curtsy. “Lady Laurie, please come with me. I will explain what is expected.”
Feeling as if she were tossing about in a gyrating washing machine, Laurie followed Elspeth from the hall. She worried her lower lip. What did Patrick plan? What would he expect of her? She was sure whatever he proposed she wouldn’t like.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Laurie felt the singe of Patrick’s gaze as if he touched her skin with a lit match. Ignoring him was impossible. He leaned against a corner post of the large canopied bed, watching her through hawk-like eyes while she prepared his bath under the gentle guidance of Aine and Elspeth. Laurie squeezed the knobby cloth in her hand until her palms burned. If only she could strangle the arrogant jerk.
Aine bent over the tub, tested the water temperature with her elbow, and inclined her head to Elspeth. “Ready.”
Elspeth clapped her hands then flicked them in front of her, shooing the servants from the room. Aine adjusted a pile of toweling and followed the men out.
“Duncan will remain in the passageway. If you are in need of anything, more hot water, drying cloths, anything, summon him and he will fetch whatever you require.” Elspeth gave Laurie a reassuring nod before she left.
The heavy oak door shut with a loud thud, causing Laurie to jump. The tension thickened to an unbearable level. How had she gotten herself into this uncomfortable situation? Was this what a kidnap victim felt like? Totally out of control?
Only Laurie willingly followed Patrick home after sharing the most powerful kiss of her life. A stranger. God, what was she thinking?
She didn’t believe he would harm her, at least not physically, but the domineering man did control her fate. Though only until she found a way home. She held out hope, if she went to the place where Patrick found her, she’d be able to return home.
He strode to the center of the room in silence. Silence that was more overwhelming than words would be. He towered over her by at least a foot. He stood still for several tense moments then removed his belt and the pouch at his waist, laying them aside on a wooden bench.
Laurie swallowed impulsively when his wool plaid fell to the floor at his feet. She wanted to dart for the door, but didn’t dare. She glared at him, anger consuming her, making her dizzy.
How dare he force her into this awkward situation?
He had the nerve to flash a devilish grin. With a quick motion, he pulled his tunic over his head and dropped it too. Holy crap. He stood before her, tall and broad, displaying hi
s magnificent male assets.
She lowered her gaze to the floor, but only after enjoying an eyeful of his athletically honed physique. Not just his ribbed six-pack—a major erection proudly jutted forward, reaching for her. She sucked in a shocked breath and froze in place.
Water splashed and Patrick sighed heavily. When Laurie retuned her gaze to him, he’d lowered into the tub. The wooden bathtub was large, but even so, he couldn’t stretch his legs out. He sat with his knees drawn up, steamy water covering him to his waist.
She bit her lower lip. Even though he annoyed her, he was impressive to look at. Based on the smug smile he wore, he was well aware of his effect on her. The room was getting hot. She fanned herself, finding it hard to breathe. It wasn’t only the temperature making her perspire, but the sensual way Patrick looked at her as if he desired more than help with his bath.
He leaned back against the tub, allowing time to drag. She bet he was taking pleasure from her discomfort.
Was this her predestined alpha-male?
She shrank from the thought. He was a barbarian. A medieval lord, for God’s sake. Not for her. She needed to go home.
“Shall we begin?” His husky voice startled her, and a flush of heat prickled across Laurie’s chest, up her neck, and burned her cheeks. “Have you never seen a naked man afore?”
She straightened to her full height and raised her chin. “I have, but he was my boyfriend.”
Patrick’s forehead puckered. “What is meant by this word… boyfriend?”
Whoa. Laurie wiped her clammy palms on the cloth she held. She needed to be more careful how she said things. But really, how could she be expected to carry on a conversation with him while he sat there, naked, knowing she was expected to wash his tempting body? How would she be able to wash all of that magnificently muscled nude man, touch all of his beautifully bronzed skin?
She was tempted to do a lot more than wash him, God help her. She was treading on dangerous ground. She shook her head, trying to remember his question.
Oh, yeah—boyfriend. How did one explain a boyfriend to a medieval warrior?
Caught by the deep blue of his eyes she hesitated, unsure how to answer. She ignored his nudity and stepped closer. His eyes widened and his nostrils flared.
She lowered her gaze and reigned in her scattered thoughts. “I’m not sure I can explain it properly.”
“Try.”
“A boyfriend is someone with whom you are romantically involved. Someone you think you might someday want to marry.” She glanced at Patrick. The intensity of his gaze threw her off balance. She leaned against a nearby chair for support.
“Are you hand-fasted then?”
“No!” She was familiar with the meaning of that word from Finn and she didn’t want Patrick to think she was married. Not that there could ever be anything between them. Still, she didn’t want him to think she had a man of her own.
“Are you this boy’s mistress?” Patrick quickly shot the question at her in a raised voice.
Laurie winced. “No, you misunderstand. I was just his girl-friend.”
When Patrick splashed water over his chest, something in her gut fluttered as she watched the water trickle over his nipples, the nubs hardening. She moistened her lips, and stared at him. He held himself motionless, his gaze penetrating, his jaw tight.
“What happened to this boy?”
“I don’t know. We went our separate ways a long time ago.”
That one relationship, her only romantic relationship, had been the biggest mistake of her life.
Patrick grinned. “Good. Now attend to my bath, woman.”
Laurie stiffened. She didn’t particularly care for the tone of his voice or for his derogatory use of the word woman. She raised her arm to slap him, but a glance into the tub stopped her mid-swing. His cock jerked in the water, and rational thought flew from her mind. She gaped at him like an idiot.
“Lass, come here and wash my back.” His tone was gentler this time.
Laurie blinked. Okay, girl, get with the program. She took the small cloth she still held and picked up the pot sitting near the tub. A whiff of the woodsy pine-scented soap made her smile. The fragrance was different from the one she’d used for her bath. Bold. Manly. Putting a generous amount on the cloth, she knelt on a towel on the floor behind the tub and rubbed the cloth over Patrick’s back.
His muscles flexed and he made a rumbling sound from deep within his chest. Gooseflesh popped and danced across his slick skin. The depth of the sound of his voice surprised her as it resonated against her fingers, sending mini shock waves up her arm and along her spine. She shivered from the sensation, forgetting her earlier anger. A purr was the only word to describe the sensuous sound he made.
Emboldened by his obvious pleasure, she added more soap and rubbed the cloth across his shoulders, scraping her nails on his glistening skin. His muscles quivered with each pass.
“Ach, you make me feel as if I am drawn on a rack with each stroke.” He sounded like he was in pain.
“Sorry.” Laurie jerked her hand away.
“Nae, dinnae stop.” Patrick twisted and grabbed her hand along with the cloth and brought them to rest on his chest. “I like your sweet caress. You set me afire.”
A girl could get used to hearing that. Swallowing the remainder of her inhibitions, Laurie removed her hand from his body, stood before he grabbed it back, scurried to the other side of the tub and knelt. If he was enjoying this, so would she. This might be her only opportunity to experience a real man.
She touched his broad chest, hesitating only for a moment before swiping the cloth across his pecs. Her stomach tightened as she feasted on his masculinity. She boldly stroked him with her gaze, from chin to chest, to waist, and up again. A tremor raced through her. When she met his stormy eyes, she was lost.
She stilled, the cloth held in a tight grip, unable to move, unable to speak, unable to look away. Patrick reached for her hand and slid her palm, along with the cloth, over his heart. Each beat pulsed in rhythm with her own. Their gazes locked, and she dragged the cloth along with his hand over his nipples.
He sucked in a breath and released a guttural sound. “Use your nails on me.”
Breathless, she searched his face. His eyes darkened with desire. Letting the cloth fall into the water, she scraped her nails gently across his chest. Each fine hair tickled, causing a pleasant pulsing sensation at her core. She drew circles around each of his nipples, brushing her fingertips across the hardened buds. Her breasts grew heavy and strained against the fabric of her gown.
He purred again, a purely sensuous sound. She could listen to the hum forever. A heated smile softened his lips, making him more breathtakingly handsome.
Blatant desire pooled down low, and she needed to touch more of him. Her sensitive fingers brushed across a rough ridge of skin below his right shoulder. A white scar ran from the side of his neck to just below his arm. Pulling her hand away, she winced.
“Do you find me so ugly you cannae bear to touch me?” He watched her through hooded eyes.
Ignoring his ill-hidden attempt to gain a compliment, Laurie ran a moist fingertip along the length of the scar. “How did you get this?”
Patrick shuddered with sensation. Laurie’s gentle touch against his damaged skin drove him mad. “Ach, ’tis naught but a wee scrape.”
She frowned. “Must’ve hurt like hell when you got it.”
“Aye, that it did.”
“Will you tell me how it happened?”
“I caught a cattle thief on MacLachlan land and he gave me the scar.” He flashed a teasing grin. “A wee bit of blood-letting is a show of vigor, you ken.”
She gaped at him.
“The thief received worse for it,” he said, after glimpsing her horrified expression.
Again, she traced the length of the scar with her finger. “Does it hurt?”
“Nae.” Patrick growled, reached over the side of the tub and pulled her in.
&n
bsp; Laurie let out a curt scream as water splashed on the stone floor. He placed her between his raised knees, her back to his front, her soaking clothes clinging to all her luscious curves.
“What do you think you’re doing?” She struggled to rise, but he held her in place.
“Lean against me, let me hold you.” He wrapped his arms around her tiny waist.
“We mustn’t.”
Having seen desire simmering in her eyes, he ignored her protest. She wanted him as much as he needed her. Her wet skirt tangled around their legs when he pulled her against the hard ridge of his erection. He yanked her braid to the side and nuzzled her neck.
“Stop!” She batted at his hands.
“I beg you. Let me pleasure you,” he murmured close to her ear.
She stilled.
“You ken you want me.”
“You conceited bastard. How dare you?”
He laughed. “We have already established I dare much.” He brushed his lips along the nape of her neck and whispered love words in Gaelic, knowing she wouldn’t understand their promise. Mine.
She shivered. “Please, let me go.” However, they both knew the words for what they were—an empty plea.
He took encouragement from that knowledge and slid the tip of his tongue along the edge of her ear, nibbled on the lobe, delved in. She squirmed, and his shaft stiffened to near pain.
She half-heartedly tried to break his hold, again. He held her gently in his embrace, and relaxing against him, she gave up the attempt. He took a soft bite at her nape and placed feather-light kisses along her hairline, desperate to possess all of her. The soft mewing sounds she made urged him onward. He kissed and nipped all of her wonderfully tender places.
Patrick cupped her firm breasts and toyed with the tight nipples through the now-wet cloth of her gown. He took his time, leisurely massaging each breast. Managing to fit his large hands inside the bodice of her gown, he pinched the hard tips between his thumbs and forefingers, drawing a moan from her lips.
Highland Charm: First Fantasies Page 87