“Aye. Her time’s come and the babe’s caught. Diedre just bade me saddle up and ride for help.”
Without waiting to hear more, Kara crowded past him on the narrow trail and galloped toward the tower. Duncan was right behind her, sliding from his saddle before she’d halted and lifting her down.
“Do you need anything?” he asked.
“Pray for Brighde.” She squeezed his hand before dashing into the keep. Taking the steps at a reckless clip, she burst into the master chamber. A wave of hot air nearly drove her back. It stank of fear and helplessness. “Brighde?”
“Kara!” Brighde called.
“Aye. I’m here.” She crossed the dark chamber, shoving past a ring of stricken women. One look at the woman in the bed, and her own heart quailed.
Brighde’s face was ashen, her lips bitten bloody. Her dull, sunken eyes were filled with pain and a hopelessness that was more damaging than poison for it sapped the will.
“Well, your lad seems eager to join us,” Kara said.
“I...I don’t know,” Brighde’s said listlessly. “It’s taking so long...I fear...”
“None of that,” Kara said briskly. She sent the maids hopping for hot water, fresh toweling and a few things she didn’t even need. Anything to inject life into this death chamber.
Dame Wilma, the midwife, pulled her aside and whispered, “The babe’s caught wrong wise. Coming out feet first.” She made a sign to ward off evil. “Best to let them slip away.”
“What?” Kara exclaimed so forcefully everyone in the room stopped and cringed. Furious, she pushed the bulky woman from the room. “Get you gone.”
“Gladly.” Wilma puffed up till it seemed her massive bosom might explode. “I’ll be no part to—”
Kara shoved her face into Wilma’s sweaty one. This was one case where the old ways and superstitions were wrong. “You will leave and quietly. If I hear one word against Brighde or her bairn, I’ll...I’ll get Morag to cast a spell on you.”
Wilma squeaked in fright and fled down the dark corridor, chins jiggling, skirts flying up behind her.
A dark figure roused from the shadows at the end of the hallway. “Kara, is aught wrong?” Duncan asked.
Kara sagged against the open door. Everything. Her friend was suffering, mayhap dying, and she felt so inadequate. “I—”
“Shh. Tell me.” His arm slipped around her waist.
“The babe is stuck backward.” She rested her forehead on his chest, drawing strength from his solid presence.
“Can you not turn it?”
Kara’s head snapped up. “Of course,” she said softly. “I once saw Black Roily save a mare and her foal by doing that, but I do not know if I can—”
A guttural groan from inside the room decided the issue. For Brighde’s sake, she had to try.
The maids shrieked and one of them ran from the room when Kara told them what she wanted to do.
In the end, she had to rely on Duncan. Loath as he was to enter the birthing room, he came when she called him. He held Brighde steady while Kara worked to turn the slippery babe. The task was messy and arduous, but after several attempts, Kara managed to slip the babe back around.
They roused Brighde with a dram of whiskey and let nature take its course. A few moments later, the wee squalling lad landed in Kara’s outstretched hands. She dried him quickly and set him on Brighde’s stomach.
“Is it...is it all right?” Brighde asked.
“He’s perfect.” Kara looked over at Duncan, who lurked uncertainly in the doorway. “They both are. Brighde, I would introduce you to Duncan MacLellan, the man whose timely suggestion saved you and your wee Donald.”
“You were heaven-sent to help us,” Brighde said softly. For once, Duncan didn’t dispute the point. Mayhap he was coming to believe, Kara thought.
Chapter Seven
Duncan stared out a narrow slit in a chamber high in Stratheas’s tower. The room was small and simply furnished, yet he’d chosen it over the larger one below, leaving that for Kara.
Was she sleeping, his brave, sweet Kara?
Idly he watched the snow drift down from a leaden sky. It was just past midnight, and below him, the keep slept. He was tired, too, but unable to sleep. Several hours had passed since the birth of the new laird of Stratheas, yet he was still in awe of the experience. He’d been a soldier all his life, had seen many a man die, a share of them by his own hand. ’Twas invigorating to have helped one into this world.
They’d done it together, he and Kara.
The pain Brighde had endured had humbled him, yet now, with the horror fading, he thought of Kara. Imagined her swollen with a child. His child. Impossible.
Nay, not impossible.
The rubies were gone, either lost along the river or stolen. Without them he could not, in all honor, return for Janet. If she was even still waiting for him. Three years was a long time. Mayhap Janet assumed him dead and herself free to wed another. Or was it selfish yearning to hope she’d found someone else? As he had.
Damn, if he only knew...
A slight sound outside the door had him swinging around, his hand falling to the knife in his belt. In the next breath, he relaxed and straightened. Knowing exactly who was outside, he strode over and opened the door.
Kara stood in a spill of light from the candle she held, a mix of yearning and trepidation on her face.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Duncan said.
“I know.” Her lips smiled, yet her eyes were wary, vulnerable. “But I couldn’t stay away.”
Duncan took her hand and drew her inside. “You’re cold.”
“I stood too long at the foot of the stairs, debating with myself. Warm me.”
He opened his arms and she stepped into them. Exhaling softly, he folded her close. Her body was like ice, leaching heat from his. He gave it gladly. “You’re so cold you are shivering.”
“’Tis fear, mostly.”
“Fear of what?” He tipped his head back and read her expression. “Not fear of me?”
“I was afraid you’d send me away.”
“I should.” Even as he spoke, he hugged her tighter, balanced on the knife edge between duty and love. The plunge from grace would hurt, but not as much as letting go of her.
“You cannot.” She looped her hands around his neck and tugged his head down till her eyes filled his vision. They were the color of molten gold, wide, beguiling and yearning.
Her need undid him, magnifying his own.
“You are right, Kara, love. I cannot let you go.” He lifted her so their mouths met, groaning as she wrapped herself around him and kissed him back with a ferocity that stole his sanity. The taste of her, the scent of her clouded his senses when he needed a clear head. A cool head. Struggling for control, he left her lips and sought the hollow of her ear. “Easy. Give me a chance to catch my breath, to slow down.”
“I do not want slow. I want you.”
“You’ll have me.” He drew back, staring into her passion-flushed features. “But this is your first time.”
“It does not matter. I’m not afraid.”
“It matters to me.” Duncan grinned at his imperious love. She might not be afraid, but she was vulnerable and infinitely precious. He was not taking her standing up in the doorway like some paid strumpet. “I want to savor you...like a plum tart.”
“You do?” Her wonder was all the incentive he needed to curb his own rioting passion.
“Aye.” Swinging her into his arms, he kicked the door closed and crossed to the simple bed. He tugged back the woolen coverlet, then gently laid her down on the sheets. Her hair flowed like a red banner over the bleached linen. The blue bed robe was a perfect foil for her pale skin. “You are so beautiful, like a dream I’ve held in my heart always.”
“Oh, Duncan. I feel as though I’ve waited a lifetime for you, too.” Kara shivered as she watched him remove his boots, then pull off his tunic. As his head emerged, his eyes locked on hers, glittering wit
h sensual promise. Anticipation drew her nerves so taut her clothes felt scratchy and a size too small.
“Hurry.” She tugged at her robe.
Duncan knelt beside the bed and captured her hands. “Nay. We will not rush this.” He stilled her protests with a kiss. He tasted of wine and a passion she met eagerly. Groaning, he took the kiss deeper, his lips moving over hers with devastating thoroughness. His tongue coaxed and seduced, tempting her to follow his lead. By the time he raised his head, Kara was clinging to him, her nails buried in his bare shoulders.
“Duncan,” she whispered, gasping for air. “I do not think I can wail I...I have never felt so desperate for anything as I am to be with you.”
“And I you, my love.” He stretched out beside her on the bed and dropped stinging kisses on her mouth. “You try a man’s control.” He nibbled her ear. “The fire that bums between us—” his tongue slid down her neck, leaving a trail of tingling flesh in its wake “—makes ashes of my good intentions.”
Shivering, Kara let her head drop back to give him greater access. Her arms twined about his neck, her body blindly seeking the warmth of his. Even through their clothes, she gloried in the strength of him, the solid muscles of his chest brushing her breasts, the fullness of his arousal filling the hollow cradle between her hips. “Duncan.” She twisted against him, struggling to ease the pressure building inside her.
“Aye, love, I feel it, too.” His mouth slanted over hers, hungry, demanding.
Kara kissed him back with all the longing pent up inside her. This was what she’d been missing all these years. But she wanted, needed more. Impatient, she tugged at the belt of her robe. Instantly he was there, helping. Cool air rushed over her heated flesh, countered by the brush of big, callused hands as they swept down her spine, drawing her close. The hair on his chest abraided her breasts, making them swell and peak.
“You are so soft.” He filled his hands with her breasts. “So responsive,” he murmured, drinking the gasps of pleasure from her lips as his thumbs teased her nipples into aching nubs. His mouth raced over her collarbone and beyond, nipping and laving. She started when his tongue stroked one sensitive breast, gasped when his mouth closed over the peak. Hot. Wet. Wonderful.
“Duncan,” she cried, clutching his head to keep him there.
He obliged by drawing down on her, suckling greedily. With his hands and mouth, he roused her to heights she’d not known existed. Desire came in waves, like the churning torrents in the loch below the keep. Nowhere did it burn more fiercely than in the juncture between her thighs.
“Please,” she whimpered. Her hips began to rock against his, instinctively seeking relief.
“Aye, I’d please you, love.” He gently explored her most intimate secrets, his long fingers slipping inside, finding the focus of her yearning.
She cried his name, feeling vividly alive, her body straining to the rhythm set by his clever fingers. She’d not realized such sweet torture existed, had not known she could want so keenly her whole body flamed.
Duncan shifted suddenly, tearing free of his clothes and rising above her, face taut with passion, fierce with love. His hands trembled as he parted her thighs. Then he hesitated. “I do not want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.” She lifted her arms in silent welcome and drew him down. A soft moan escaped her and her eyes closed as his body brushed hers. The moan became a groan of pleasure as she accepted the solid strength of him to fill the aching void inside her. The pain was fleeting, buried in a wash of pure wonder. He stretched her to the limits, yet he completed her, body and soul. She wanted to tell him, but when she opened her eyes, one look at the tenderness shining in his, and she knew no words were needed.
“Now we are one,” Duncan whispered, moved to tears. Cradling her bottom in his hands, he set about loving her as though she were the only woman in the world. For him, she was. With each thrust of his hips, they soared higher. Her little whimpers of delight made him burn hotter and hotter till he thought he’d burst into flames.
“Oh, Duncan,” Kara cried, and he felt the first tremors of her release begin deep, deep inside her.
Gasping her name, Duncan buried himself in the heart of the explosion that shattered her, consumed by the feel of her body tightening around his, demanding his ultimate surrender. He gave and gave, pouring himself into her, heart and soul.
Moments later, he found the strength to roll to his side, yet he kept her with him, their bodies still joined.
“I never knew it could be like this,” Kara whispered.
Duncan stroked her satiny back. “Nor did I.” But one worry intruded. “Are you...are you all right?”
She stretched like a lazy cat, her breasts brushing against his chest. “More than all right. And you?” There was pure siren in the look she slanted him through her lashes.
“I have never been happier in my life.”
“Nor I.” Kara’s eyes roamed possessively over his wide, bronzed shoulders. The dark swirls of hair on his chest fascinated her. She ran her fingers through the pelt, stroking and kneading the hard muscles beneath. Idly she traced a line from his breastbone to the belly button below his narrow waist. In response, she felt him stir inside her.
He grabbed her hand. “You should sleep.” The kiss he placed on her fingers robbed his words of their sting.
“I’m not at all tired.” She gently rocked her hips.
Duncan gasped as his body answered the call of hers. “Kara...you are new to this and—”
“I’d be willing to practice.” She rubbed her breasts against his chest, shivering as the nipples peaked. “See. Not tired.”
“What am I going to do with you?”
“Love me.”
“I do,” he answered, and proceeded to prove it so tenderly, so sweetly, that she cried with the wonder of it.
Duncan kissed away her tears and tucked her close so they slept heart to heart, but long after Kara had fallen asleep, he remained awake. Worrying.
Not about Janet or proving himself to Cousin Niall. Those things no longer mattered, though he wished he knew if Janet was well and happy.
He worried about all that must be done to make Edin Valley strong enough to repel the MacGorys. He worried about making a home for Kara, about making her as happy as she made him.
The snow had stopped falling by early afternoon when Kara and Duncan rode away from Stratheas, but the few inches on the ground made the trail down the mountain slippery and treacherous. Shivering, Kara pulled her cloak closer, glad of the thick woolen hose Brighde had lent her to pull on under her skirt.
“Stay close behind me and go slowly,” Duncan admonished.
Kara nodded, smiling to herself. She’d traveled these hills from the time she could ride, often in far worse weather, but since last night, Duncan had turned protective as a hen with only one chick. Because he loved her. A thrill shot through her, and she shifted in the saddle, the faint ache in her muscles a subtle reminder of their lovemaking. Magical as the night had been, Duncan had been quiet this morn, and she feared he regretted what they’d done.
When they reached the bottom of the mountain, Kara pulled her mount alongside his. The grim set of his jaw would have warned some away, but not her. “Are you sorry?” she baldly asked.
“About what?” He scanned the mountains, his expression fierce and wary, one hand on his sword.
“That we, er, coupled.”
Duncan whipped his head around, eyes blazing with a different sort of light. “We made love, Kara,” he said softly. “And I am not sorry.” He exhaled a plume of dragon smoke. “Except for the timing. I should not have touched you till we were wed.”
Wed. Her heart soared, then fell again. “Do not feel you must wed me because we...we...”
“I am not. I am wedding you because I do not think I could live without you.”
“Oh,” Kara breathed. “Why did you tell me now, when I can not show you how much you mean to me without risking frosted, er, parts,” s
he added, giggling.
“For just that reason,” he said gruffly. “There will be no more of that till we’re properly married.”
“You are a prude, sir knight.”
“It is a matter of honor. ’Twas dishonorable of me to sleep with you before—”
“There was very little sleeping, as I recall.”
“Kara!”
“Well, there wasn’t.” She nibbled on her lower lip. “I am sorry you find me too bold, but I was raised to be open and plain speaking. I love you, I desire you, and I cannot hide it.”
“Nor do I want you to.” His smile was as dazzling as the sun on the fresh snow. “Your honesty is one of the things I like best about you, my love. I am only trying to do the right thing.”
“Loving me is the right thing?”
“Aye, though we must not sleep together again till we are wed,” he added, his sternness ruined by the tenderness shining in his dark eyes.
“I do not see why,” she grumbled. “Many couples handfast or wed themselves according to the old way.” She glanced at him.
He shook his head. “When will Father Luthais come?”
“Not till after nollaig, Christmas.”
“We’ll wed then, if Fergus gives his blessing.”
Kara sighed and resigned herself to six weeks of purgatory. They rode in silence for few moments till she worked up the courage to ask the question that had nibbled at the back of her mind since waking. “Will you stay in Edin, then?”
“Aye.” He fixed that scowl on her. “Though I’ve naught to offer you but my heart and a strong sword arm to protect you.”
And a marvelous body. But she decided against mentioning that. “The first, I’ll treasure always, for I’ve given mine to you. The second, we’ll need if we’re to drive off the MacGorys. But what of the promises you mentioned earlier?”
His scowl deepened. “’Tis a blot on my soul that I cannot keep those promises...not without the rubies.” He told her, then, about Janet and his vow to make his fortune so they could wed.
“She’d not have you unless you were wealthy?”
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