Dreamer (Highland Treasure Trilogy)

by McGoldrick, May

  “Nay. Not yet!”

  She looked back and found her husband standing beside the hearth with his hand outstretched to her.

  “We’ll save that for the last, Cat.”

  Catherine never hesitated as she took the few short steps into his arms. The way he wrapped her in his embrace--the heat she felt at the immediate and possessive caress of his hands over her body--all made her head whirl with excitement.

  John Stewart backed into the settle beside the fire and drew her onto his lap. She placed her arm around his neck and found herself looking into his magical eyes. “Why here?”

  “‘Tis the farthest place from the bed.” She could feel his hands undoing the laces on the back of her dress. “‘Tis also the brightest spot in the chamber.” She gasped and looked down as one of his hands pulled down at the neckline of her dress causing both of her breasts to spill wantonly into the open. “And ‘tis also the warmest spot--short of being beneath the comforter on the bed--which we are saving for later.”

  She held her breath as his head descended, his tongue starting to make circles around one of her nipples. In a flash, she felt the tightening in her breast and watched with widening eyes as her flesh extended, beckoning toward his lips. He took her fully into his mouth, and she found herself melting with pleasure.

  A moment later, as he pulled back and stood her up between his legs, Catherine watched him with a wondering eye as he pushed her dress and the thin chemise downward over her hips. She was now burning with need, every part of her on fire, every bit of her tingling with desire, and he, too, seemed lost in the moment. The way his eyes roamed every inch of her naked body, the way his hands gently traveled over her curves, cupping, caressing, shaping her hips, her buttocks, her belly, her breasts--each tender touch sending her spiraling higher. When his mouth suckled her again, she wanted to cry out with joy.

  He wanted her. He was as much affected by her woman’s body as she was by this passion that he was so keen to raise in her. They were in this together. The two of them as one.

  Gradually, a boldness crept into her veins, and Catherine moved closer, sliding her hands over his powerful shoulders.

  “Teach me. Show me what to do.”

  “You are more than...” He paused, drawing back and gazing at her. “You are so beautiful.”

  To have him forget his words brought a smile to her face. Taking one of his hands, she raised it to her lips and placed a kiss on each finger. “Show me, John.”

  The handsome planes of his face became tense. She thought she could see something akin to pain around his eyes.

  “One touch by you, Cat...and I’ll be undone for certain.”

  “One touch is all?” she murmured, remembering the way she’d felt last night when his fingers had wrought magic within her. Lowering herself slowly to her knees, she held his gaze. “Promise me? One touch?”

  Pulling at his shirt, she placed her lips against the skin of his chest, tasting him as he had tasted her. Her hands, resting only for a moment on his knees, slid beneath the soft wool of his kilt.

  “Catherine...you’ll be the death of me.”

  “Aye, but you’re no coward, I know.” Feeling bolder with each passing moment, she continued to place chaste kisses on his chest, his throat, his chin, as her fingers continued their slow journey upward over his taut, muscular thighs. “And how could a poor scholar, such as I am, be the undoing of the great and powerful earl of Athol?”

  “Cat!”

  He drew a sharp breath as she found her mark. Wrapping her fingers around him, she was awestruck at the size of him. Hesitantly, she looked up and found his eyes concentrating on her face.

  “You could not have been so large last night.” She used her thumb to feel the softness of the head while her hand moved curiously the length of his manhood. Real concern began to edge into her voice. “Do you get larger, John? For even like this, we no longer can possibly fit.”

  His fingers were rough when they dug into her hair and brought her mouth roughly against his. His kiss was raw, his tongue delving deeply. When he pulled back, Catherine suddenly found herself being lifted into the air and carried swiftly to the bed.

  “So much for saving the bed for last.”

  “Aye, and ‘tis your fault completely.” His voice was a mere growl as he threw back the covering and dropped her none too gently onto the bed. He quickly kicked off his boots.

  “I asked you to teach me...but you refused.” She moved to the middle of the great bed. “I had to learn for mysel...”

  The shirt was not coming off quickly enough, and Catherine’s words caught in her throat when he ripped it open in the front. The sight of his golden skin and the sinewy musculature of his chest caused her heart to pound more feverishly than before.

  “I still...I think...John...the size...”

  His kilt dropped to the floor. Catherine’s eyes moved downward, fixing on his huge arousal before flitting again to his face.

  “It can’t possibly...!”

  “Just leave it to me, lass.”

  All she could do was gasp as Athol leaned over, took hold of her ankles and dragged her back to the edge of the bed. She had no time even to guess at his next move before he bent over her and clasped her nipple between his lips.

  Any thought of resistance quickly gave way to pleasure, but it was a moment or two before Catherine could take in her next breath. And then, when he moved down her body, caressing her belly with his lips and tongue, moving even lower until he settled at the aching juncture of her thighs, she felt the molten fluids erupt in her body in a fiery sensation of pulsing energy. Catherine cried out in the ecstasy of release as her whole body came undone.

  Too blind with waves of bliss sweeping her along on passion’s currents, Catherine was mindless of her earlier concerns. She wanted him inside of her, and she reached out wildly, taking hold of his hair and raising him up. She felt him sink his shaft into her, and she raised her hips with a cry of wonder as he embedded himself fully within her.

  And then, as he began his long, slow thrusts, Catherine was again lost to the world as he carried her to yet another shattering level of rapturous bliss. But this time, they came together in a joyous, dizzying union of body and spirit.

  Moments later, John’s streaming body still draped across hers, Catherine sent a quiet blessing heavenward. She had so much to be thankful for. Most of all, she wanted to thank the Lord for giving her the strength to tame this man. Running a gentle hand over his strong shoulders, she placed a kiss on his chest.

  John Stewart, the earl of Athol, was certainly no longer the dangerous lion she’d once feared.

  CHAPTER 11

  As the first rays of the morning sun stretched across the chamber, John Stewart sleepily reached for his wife. But where the soft, inviting curves of her perfect body had lain--enticing him, welcoming him over and over during the night--now only the cool emptiness of the bedclothes awaited his touch. Abruptly lifting his head and staring across at her side of the empty bed, John smiled, cursing her out loud for her stubbornness in leaving him like this.

  Swinging his long legs over the side of the bed, the earl sat brooding for a moment. Here she was, placed in the most decrepit of all rooms in the oldest quarter of the keep, and she readily gives up the comforts of his chamber to return to that hole. How many women could he think of that would be so steadfast in refusing such luxury? None, he thought decisively. Of course, it figures he would have to marry the one and only one.

  Nay, he thought, quickly correcting himself. There was another. Joanna MacInnes had spent months roaming like a ghost in the caverns beneath Ironcross Castle until Gavin Kerr came north to take ownership of that keep. Aye! There was one other woman unaffected by life’s creature comforts.

  Pushing himself to his feet and moving into the warmth of the sun, John couldn’t help but smile at the hand of fate. He might have lost the hand of Joanna MacInnes, but here he had blindly walked into a marriage with a woman with such si
milar principles.

  And he had a lot to be thankful for, considering all that had been said and done. Catherine Percy was turning out to be a jewel of a wife. Even aside from her vast learning, which was--in his opinion--an unexpected treasure in a woman, she had a lot of spirit and a fiery passion beneath her prim and proper appearance. She was indeed turning out to be a perfect wife.

  And he had her just where he wanted her.

  Feeling the stirring in his loins at a mere thought of what they’d shared, Athol could not recollect any night of carnal pleasures in the past that could match up to the one he’d just spent with Catherine.

  There was something more, though. Something he’d have to be very careful of. She’d never spoken the words, but just having her naked limbs entwined with his own--her midnight blue eyes gazing into his--John knew. He’d seen the look of devotion and trust in her face. She belonged to him in body and soul.

  Hell, he thought, shrugging off his misgivings. She’d chosen to fall in love. By St. Andrew, he’d even warned her! She could never say he didn’t.

  But winning over his wife had been an easy chore. All he’d had to do was peel away one thin layer of resistance. Who could have known what cooperative riches he’d find beneath?

  Aye, taming Catherine Percy had indeed been a very easy task.

  ******

  Once again the angry hawk dived past the men at the top, this time striking hard at the shoulder of the man clinging to the face of the cliff below them. The sound of his curses rang out.

  “Have you got it?” The Deputy Lieutenant’s roar reverberated off the rocks. “Was it there, man?”

  “Aye, m’lord,” came the gruff reply.

  “Bring him up.”

  As the soldiers hauled their pale and bloodied mate up over the edge, Sir Arthur Courtenay stepped toward the man. It took only a glimpse of the rolled parchment to tell him that, once again, there was no treasure to be had. Not here, anyway.

  “Snakes! Black cats! Jagged cliffs. We should have burned those three as witches when we had a chance. I hate these Percy women! Where did you find it this time?” He snatched the parchment from the soldier’s hand. “Was there a dragon protecting the vault?”

  “Might as well have been, m’lord.” He showed his bloody forearm and shoulder to his commander. “The cursed thing was hidden under the hawk’s nest. Why, if I hadn’t been able to get my hands up, that filthy devil would have torn my face off, sure as we’re standing!”

  The cloaked man stepped forward and took the parchment from the Deputy Lieutenant’s hand.

  “One should never molest the mother when she has her babies in the nest.”

  “Aye,” the soldier sneered. “But I made damn sure to toss the little buggers down the cliff after her first dive at me.”

  The cloaked man turned away, unrolling the parchment with a look at the Deputy Lieutenant. “To be sure, Sir Arthur, you have only the finest of men to serve you!”

  “But they do serve me, and I suggest you keep your prating tongue still.” The two men stared angrily at one another for a long moment before Sir Arthur continued, breaking the silence. “So what is it this time, as if I didn’t know. It wouldn’t be another map from the three bitches, now, would it?”

  The cloaked man gazed stonily at the map for a long moment. Then, without warning, the man tossed the parchment into Sir Arthur’s hands. Fury blazed in the eyes of the king’s Deputy Lieutenant.

  “Aye. ‘Tis exactly that. Another map for us...courtesy of the Mistresses Percy.”

  “This is the end!” Sir Arthur exploded hurling the map to the ground. I’ll not play the fool for these traitorous sluts anymore. ‘Tis time we did something more than waste our valuable days traipsing all over the damned countryside. I told you a fortnight ago nothing would come of this! I’m telling you that they’ve taken the treasure with them! The wenches are in Scotland laughing at us this moment. They’ve taken it and left us with noth...”

  “I know for a fact that they did not.”

  The Deputy Lieutenant eyed the other man suspiciously. “You know?”

  “The treasure is here...somewhere.” The cloaked man picked up the map from the dirt. “And there is a map...”

  “Then one of them must have it! I wager ‘tis the eldest! Bloody hell, I should have gone after her--as I wanted to from the first--rather than waste my time following this futile trail.”

  “As I’ve told you before, ‘tis not just one of them that has the answer...‘tis the three together. That’s why we must follow the maps. They left these here for a reason, and I’m telling you we cannot ignore them. The mother has corresponded with them, and these maps could very well lead to the prize we seek.”

  The Deputy Lieutenant began pacing back and forth along the ledge. Finally, he stopped and faced the man. “Nay! I’ll not be put off again. We’ll go after the eldest first. Didn’t you tell me that she went to Elgin? We have some of the maps...perhaps she has the final key. And if she cannot lead us to it on her own, I’ll stretch her on the rack until she tells us where the other two sisters are.”

  The cloaked man’s brow deepened into a frown. “‘Tis not so easy. My men have sent me word that she has been wedded to the earl of Athol--the cousin to the Scottish king...”

  “Your men?!” Sir Arthur exploded. “You have people close to her, and yet you say nothing to me? Are you telling me that all along you have been in a position to bring her back, and you have not acted?”

  The cloaked man raised himself to his full height. “If I were you, I should not be too hasty in passing judgment over what I have done. If it weren’t for me, you would still know nothing at all of the connection between the Percys and the Treasure of...”

  “Enough!” the Deputy Lieutenant interrupted, eyeing the gawking soldiers standing nearby. “You’ve told me this until I’m sick to death of it!”

  Moving closer, Sir Andrew grasped the man’s cloak in his fist and drew him down until their faces were eye to eye.

  “When are you bringing her back?” he rasped, the threat evident in his voice.

  “When the time is right.” The cloaked man whispered, his gaze never wavering as he extricated himself from the king’s servant.

  “Bah!” the Deputy Lieutenant turned on his heel and strode again to the cliff’s edge.

  “But in the meantime, Sir Arthur, we have another map that may lead us closer to our goal. So if you’re finished chastising me for the good that I’ve done in keeping at least one of Nichola Percy’s daughters within our reach, then I believe we should continue our endeavors.”

  “Aye, for now,” Courtenay replied, keeping his back turned.

  The commander’s eye was caught by the falcon circling in the sun above them, and his voice dropped to a murmur. “Though I wonder, Nichola Percy, how you would respond if I were to drag your hatchlings from the nest.”

  ******

  The late summer sun beat down relentlessly on the two riders and their balky, old mules.

  Catherine glanced over her shoulder at the flushed face of the exhausted monk. Brother Bartholomew was wiping the sweat off his brow with the sleeve of his robe, and she slowed down to let him catch up to her.

  The monk looked up and met her gaze. “I still can’t understand, mistress, why we couldn’t take the trail through the Glen of Rothes as the young stable hand directed us. The boy insisted that going that way would be the safest and the easiest route to Elgin.”

  “This was the same lad that gave us these fine mounts, too, Brother.” Catherine smiled, patting her ancient mule. She let her eyes wander over the craggy hills and thick green forests of pine and of oak, and then downward into the glen with its smattering of open meadows beneath them. “But you know my fondness for the hills, Bartholomew. Do you know, since my arrival here, a day hasn’t passed without my serving woman Jean talking of how ‘bonny’ Ben Aigan looks from these Mannoch Hills--near the place where she was raised. That’s it...there across the glen. ‘Ti
s breathtaking, don’t you think so?”

  The monk glanced at the peak non-committally and gave a low grunt as he pushed his mule past her along the path through the hills. Satisfied for the moment, Catherine turned her own attention to the rocky trail.

  Actually, the truth of the matter behind taking this road was quite different. That stable lad, Roy Sykes, had simply been too agreeable in believing that her husband had allowed the two of them to journey to Elgin without an escort. Indeed, considering that the red-haired young man had given them two of the frailest old mules in the stables, Catherine was convinced that the young man had probably beaten a track to her husband’s chamber door the moment she and the monk had ridden out through Balvenie’s arched gate.

  Catherine scanned the open areas of the glen as far as her eyes could see. At least, she thought, if she wanted to wield her own authority, it would be better to avoid having Athol stop her before she reached Elgin. By riding into the hills and following the glen, they had a chance, anyway, of finishing the journey without being overtaken. The more arduous route would take them longer, but from what she gathered from Jean, they could easily make it by sunset.

  And Jean’s information about these hills had proved accurate thus far. Based on what she’d learned from the serving woman, Catherine was completely confident that they’d find their way to the ancient walled city and its revered cathedral. She’d always had a good sense of direction. And with these hills as unfrequented as they appeared to be, Catherine believed they may have found the safest route for their passage, as well.

  Urging her own mule forward, she tried to think ahead to all that needed to be done. In the past, when the three sisters had been together, it had been so much easier to work through their designs. Among the three, Catherine had always been the dreamer--the one with the vision of what they could and should do. Laura, on the other hand, had been their voice of reason. She and her logical mind had saved them many a time when they could have brought themselves serious trouble. But Adrianne, the youngest, was a true troublemaker--borne to torment any who preached tranquillity. Though in public Catherine and Laura had to restrain their sister’s behavior, in private they were her greatest admirers. Her unbridled energy and daring served as an inspiration to them.