“You are staring, sir.”
“You are beautiful, Anice.”
She closed her eyes. He watched her throat move as she swallowed.
“I’m no sorry you’ve come to Stonehaven, lass.”
Stop, he told himself.
She shifted her head and met his gaze, her eyes darker than that magnificent blue under the midday sun and filled with some longing, mayhap the same intensity he showed to her, that he couldn’t seem to hold back.
“When is your wedding to take place?”
Said with intent, he knew, to put them in mind of their reality, her voice soft and sad.
And he didn’t care. He needed to touch her. Dammit, he knew that he should not. But she was so close, and so beguiling, and her lips were so perfect, truly just daring a man not to taste them.
He leaned over her, set his hand onto her cheek and pressed his lips to hers, taking her breathless gasp into his mouth. Closing his eyes, he moved his lips slowly against her, allowing her to stop him if she desired. Let me have just this, he begged silently. She did, the stiffness that had initially come softened now as she tilted her head toward him. He opened his mouth against her, slid his tongue inside and joined it with hers. Gregor leveraged his foot into the sand and pushed himself closer to her, pressing his chest and thighs against her. The hand at her cheek slid down over her neck and across her collar, his fingers lingering, spreading a trail of heat along her cool skin. He moved his hand further, onto the fabric of her kirtle, down along her arm, his thumb just grazing the outside of her breast before he settled it upon her waist and pulled her against him, wanting only to bury himself in her.
She returned his kiss with equal fervor, her arm sliding up and around his neck, her fingers sifting through the short hair there. She tipped her head and offered her lips and tongue, her rising urgency matching his own.
Gregor inhaled the scent of heather and sea and was sad when she came to her senses long before he did and struck her hands between them, pushing him back.
Their breaths met between them, heavy and coming in short bursts.
Anice’s hand touched his cheek, her small and slim fingers gliding down to rest just at his jaw. Gregor turned his head and kissed her palm, closing his eyes against this travesty, that she was not his, could not be his.
“This is why I cannot stay, isn’t it?”
Her hand fell away from his cheek.
“Aye, lass. I dinna want you to go, though.” He lifted himself away from her, angry now. He’d never in his life groused about fair versus not, but damn if he didn’t want to pound his fists into the ground again and again and shout to the heavens that this was not fair at all. Sitting now, legs bent, and elbows draped across his knees, Gregor steepled his hands together and pressed them to this face, his thumbs under his chin. “You have to go, lass, because if you stay, this thing between us, this pull toward you, I canna fight it—damn, but so much of me does no want to fight it...and that’s the problem.” His voice sounded craggy and stilted, to his own ears. He tried for a firm, authoritative tone. “Anice, you’ll only be harmed, no good’ll come of it, and I canna do that to you. I have to wed Nathara—now more than ever if I’m to see Hugh punished.”
“So that was to be my farewell, then?” The fact that she accepted this with so little emotion—no anger, no sadness, no fear—only made him feel worse. He suspected she only now lumped him in with all those people who’d abused or neglected or abandoned her. He wasn’t sure if it were better to be cast in with that lot or cast as the villain who wanted only to kiss her even as he could offer her nothing more.
Gregor dropped his hands from his face and shook his head. “That was selfish, lass, and only for me, though why I should torment myself tasting something I will never ken in full, is beyond me. Touching you and kissing you seems only to be something I canna control.”
“You once told me,” she said, and Gregor bent his head toward her to hear her over the rising surf, “that if something seems right and good, then so it is. I guess that was just a lie.”
Gregor blew out a frustrated breath. “Anice—”
“Please do not attempt to placate me.” She stood and yanked at the fur, some of which was trapped beneath him. He shifted so that she whipped the entire large piece off the sand. She flapped it about, loosening the sand, which the breeze blew at Gregor while he watched her.
“I have a friend, ‘bout half a day away. Conall MacGregor. Torren’ll bring you down, stay with you until you’re settled. Lass, if I could’ve picked another beside me to have stumbled upon you in the stocks, it would’ve been MacGregor.” ‘Twas truth. “I’d no be able to send you off if I dinna ken you’d be so well received at Inesfree.”
“I won’t go. You cannot make me.”
Her voice suggested tears might be imminent.
He tried to sway her. “The MacGregor’s lady, Tess, will near smother you with such love and attention, I swear you’ll no want to leave, ever.”
“I-I don’t care. I do not know her. I want to stay here.”
Gregor only shook his head, couldn’t look at her now.
The fur hit the sand again, next to him, looking like a wolfhound curled up against him.
“Damn you, Gregor Kincaid.”
Chapter 13
A short time later, Gregor showed up in the soldiers’ quarters and kicked his boot against Torren’s bunk. The mountain moved beneath the light blanket. Gregor wasn’t surprised to find him fully dressed.
Torren sat up and glared at Gregor.
“Take her down to Conall tomorrow,” Gregor instructed, his tone grim.
Skinny eyes stared back at him. “She can stay. I’ll figure it out, keep her away from you and the keep. I can—”
“Take her to Conall.” Firmly.
“Why the hell did you even bring her here?”
Soldiers stirred in their cots, saw their chief in the aisle and closed their eyes again, pretending to sleep.
Gregor had no answer.
“Should have left her there, then! And not messed her up, discarding her like all—”
“I dinna need a bluidy lecture from you!”
“Aye, you do!” Torren stood, thumped Gregor’s chest.
“I dinna ken I would—”
Torren roared, “How the bluidy hell could you no ken that? But you kept right on going, aye? Even though you ken it was no right. You’ve ruined her for any other here at Stonehaven, you selfish prick.”
Gregor’s nostrils flared. His fists clenched.
“Go on. Take a swing,” Torren dared. Through locked teeth, “C’mon.” When Gregor did not, his captain said, “I’ll take her down to Inesfree, but no for you, but to get her away from you.”
Gregor nodded tightly, his hands still fisted as he pivoted stiffly. Torren’s voice followed him out of the barracks. “I’ll no be back for a while.”
ANICE CRIED, NEARLY as soon as Fearchar had cleared the tunnel and they trotted off down the hill, toward the village. The tears just fell, even as she kept her back straight and her head high. Fibh and Tamsin led the party down the lane, with Torren and Anice, side by side, bringing up the rear.
They were just past Stoney, on a worn and narrow road, crowded by trees on both sides with some long arching branches swaying overhead, when Torren said to Anice, while she still cried, “Aye, now, that’s enough of that, lass.”
This brought out the first harsh words Anice had ever said to the big man.
“Am I not allowed to be sad? Can I not just wallow and weep for a while?”
Her strident and distressed tone turned even Fibh and Tamsin’s head from many yards ahead.
Torren only asked, “Can you do it in silence, though, lass? You’re fair breaking my heart.”
“I’m sorry, Torren. I’ll try to be quiet.”
“Get you some linen from your saddlebags, lass, and blow your nose.”
Anice sniffled and looked at Torren. “I have saddlebags?”
He chuckled. “Aye, lass.” He inclined his head toward the back of her legs. “Get the linen first, then sit yerself astride, and then you blow your nose.”
Anice glanced down. There was indeed a brown leather buckled bag, strapped around Fearchar, just past the saddle. With one hand, she loosened the buckle and rifled her hand around inside, finding a few linen strips. She withdrew one, and did as Torren had suggested, swinging her leg over to be more comfortably astride. With the reins held loosely between her thumbs and forefingers, she was able to blow her nose.
“Now that’s better, aye, lass?”
She nodded, more for Torren’s benefit than her own.
They walked the horses sedately through this wood, Torren having told her they would run the steeds when they hit the open green.
Curiously, she asked Torren, “Does everyone know why I’m being sent away?” She assumed that Torren had been made aware—either by Gregor, who kept great confidence in his captain, or by her tears, which she couldn’t imagine suggested anything else but her own broken heart.
Torren considered her query, sitting so much taller than she, upon a mount much larger than Fearchar. “First, lass, ‘being sent away’ sounds like punishment, and it’s no that at all, you ken. However, there is the official reason and then there is the truth.” He tipped his head toward Anice and gave her a funny smirk. “So the official story is—and this only pertains to what the lads were told as to be fair, no one else at Stonehaven ken you well enough to care—that it was safer to have you away from Stonehaven, where Hugh Duncan can never assault you again. Unofficially, aye, there might be some who ken that you canna stay at Stonehaven with the chief set to wed another and him not wanting to dishonor you.” He let this sink in for a moment, “But lass, dinna pretend to your friends that it’s anything other than what it is—a broken heart.”
There was much to appreciate in Torren’s very candid manner. And truth be told, she would not have liked to have any mistruths between her and her friends, so she minded not at all that they had been made aware of the unofficial tale.
“Tell me about the MacGregor and Inesfree.” She assumed, as he was so often at his own chief’s side, he was acquainted with her new chief and his home.
“Did he tell you about Tess?” His eyes fair lit up, latching onto this, possibly as a means to introduce some positive aspect.
“He said she would love me.”
Torren’s answering laugh stirred birds and critters from their perches and homes and turned the heads of the entire party before them. “Aye, lass, she will do that.”
“OH, BUT YOU ARE LOVELY,” Tess Munro said, her eyes widening upon Anice’s face.
Terribly uncomfortable, Anice pushed her hand out, shoving Gregor’s message at the woman. They were nearly of the same height. If she’d thought Nathara beautiful—and she did—this woman before her now was breathtaking. And her rare beauty wasn’t only about those large and heavily fringed green eyes or that envious wealth of the most unusual color of hair, it sprang also from the warmth and compassion in her eyes.
Tess accepted the missive and perused it quickly while they stood in the yard of Inesfree. Anice knew it by heart, had read it many times since Torren had pointed out its existence within those saddle bags when they’d stopped to water the horses several hours ago.
SEEMS TO ME THERE BE some misfits gathering at Inesfree. I ask you to take good care of this one. Her name is Anice and she saved my life. She needs—deserves—more than I can give her.
Kincaid
Anice, I asked you not to read this.
“YOU’VE READ THIS?” the woman Tess asked, her lips quirking.
“I did,” Anice said, meeting her eyes. “I needed to know how he would present me. I hope you are Tess.” At Torren’s suggestion, she’d donned a wimple of white linen, as not “to produce so many questions all at once, lass”, and now caught Tess’s glance considering this headpiece.
“I am,” said Tess and she smiled and leaned forward to confide, “I, too, am one of the misfits.”
Anice frowned instantly. “The Kincaid sent you here, too?”
She shook her head and laughed. “Oh, no! The MacGregor stole me from my home—but that’s another story meant for another time.” Tess looked down at the note again and when she looked up again into Anice’s eyes, her own were tinted with sympathy. She took Anice’s hand and squeezed it comfortingly. “There’s a story here, and you can tell it when you’re ready, but I want you to know you are most welcome here. Come.” And she wrapped her arm through Anice’s and led her into the keep.
Anice glanced back to make sure Torren followed. “I’ll be along, lass.”
They stepped immediately into the hall, which reminded Anice straight away of Stonehaven, with its long rectangular shape and the head table at one end, this one was upon a dais. Several people milled about, including an old man in a comfortable chair near the hearth, with a pretty child at his knee, watching as he worked on some leather bits; at one table sat two more men, with a ledger of sorts between them; to the far left was laid out an enormous tapestry in the making, where sat a pretty woman bent over the task of weaving threads. Tess led her first to the old man, who cocked his head as she neared.
“Aye, lass, and who’s that you’re bringing?”
Anice saw, when Tess stopped next to him, that he was blind, his once blue eyes milky now, while the skin of his cheeks and hands was as leathery as the strips he wove.
“This is Anice. Gregor has entrusted us with her safekeeping. Anice, this is Angus.”
“I’m very pleased to meet you, sir,” she said politely.
“Aye, lass, and likewise,” he said, his hands stilled upon his right knee, which crossed over his left. “That’s a bonny voice, lass.”
“Thank you.”
“Sent for safekeeping, aye?” He asked mildly, lifting one gray brow while Tess gathered up the child in her arms. The little girl was blonde haired and blue-eyed, and Tess presented her as Bethany.
“Say good day to Anice,” Tess instructed.
“Cone!” The child called instead, looking beyond Anice.
Anice made note of Tess’s eyes just then, as she followed Bethany’s gaze to the door. They near lit up at whoever had come, the joy she showed so obvious. Anice turned to see who had wrought so immediate and overwhelming a response.
Mayhap, Anice might have recoiled in reaction to the sheer size of this man, being larger than the Kincaid and even Torren, coming into the room now with so purposeful a stride, but for his eyes. Settled upon the beautiful Tess, they showed nothing of a menace to match his bearing, but only joy and pride and heat as he approached, his gaze only for her. Anice glanced at Tess beside her and spied a matching gaze, while a small and intimate smile creased her face. Anice turned again to the man, who must be the MacGregor. He was very handsome, with keen blue eyes and very dark hair. As a pair, the MacGregor and Tess were the most amazing people Anice had ever met. Hard and soft, large and petite, and both so remarkably beautiful.
When the MacGregor stood before them, the child raised her arms to him and he scooped her up, touching his nose to hers, making faces while Bethany giggled happily at him. He then shifted Bethany to one arm and Anice saw his free hand now reach to touch Tess’s, just squeezing lightly while her eyes and smile stayed on him.
Tess flapped Gregor’s note before them and said, “This is Anice. Gregor has asked that we welcome her at Inesfree.”
The man nodded while Angus said, “Sent for safekeeping, chief.” She detected some amusement in his tone, but Anice didn’t feel it was directed at her.
“Anice, this is chief MacGregor,” Tess announced.
Anice performed a quick curtsy and lifted her eyes to him.
“It’s very kind of you to accept me, my lord.”
“Anice saved Gregor’s life,” Tess said then, to which the MacGregor raised one brow and looked over Anice, as if trying to reconcile how that might be possible.
/> “Sounds like a mealtime tale, aye, lass?” He asked.
Anice gave a quick smile, and readily agreed. “Am I allowed to embellish?”
“Only if it provides me with something I can throw in his face when next I meet Kincaid,” the MacGregor said with his own grin.
Another man then entered the hall and Anice’s eyes widened yet again. This one was even bigger than the MacGregor chief, with graying hair that stroked his shoulders and blue eyes that saw only the little blonde girl. He scrunched up his wizened and craggy face at her, lifting his hands and making clawing motions in the air. Bethany copied his motions over the shoulder of the MacGregor and let out another shrill giggle when the larger man whisked her out of the chief’s arm and swung her up into the air.
Oh, but this child was loved. What a beautiful life, to be so wonderfully cherished as that.
The man addressed the chief and while his words sounded harsh, or rather long suffering, Anice sensed a playfulness about them.
“Every day, I’m needing to be wrestling you away from the lass,” the man said. “All your work is outside, boy.”
Anice heard Angus chuckle and then felt the big man’s eyes on her. She lifted her gaze to him and returned his blue-eyed stare.
“And who are ye?” He asked, only curiosity in his deep voice.
“I am Anice, and the Kincaid has sent me for safekeeping,” she said, thinking to save Angus the trouble. She heard another low chuckle from the old man.
The big man’s answering grin lit with mischief, and he exchanged a glance with his chief, before settling his eyes on Anice again. “Aye, did he now?”
The Memory of Her Kiss Page 17