by Mary Wine
Was Torin bathing in the loch again?
That idea tantalized her, tempting her to cast a look out the window. It would be so simple to watch him. Shannon snorted at her thoughts. There would nothing simple about it. She’d burn even more if she caught sight of his bare form again. Mayhap even worse than that; maybe she’d simply give into her longings and join him.
He wanted her…
All her life she had been raised to think of such a thing as sinful, but tonight it felt like a compliment, one that was more sincere than any she had ever been given. She’d seen the hunger flickering in his eyes just as clearly as the flame of the candle on the tabletop.
Just as she burned…
It was neither good nor bad. It was simply a fact, and it followed her into bed and kept sleep from taking her away. She noticed how much better it was to be covered in only a thin chemise. But she also took note of how chilly the sheets were compared to her memory of Torin’s touch. She longed to discover what it felt like to be pressed completely against him.
To discover what it was like to be his lover.
***
Torin growled and sent his fist into the mattress of his bed. Shannon haunted his chamber like a ghost instead of the living and breathing woman who he knew damned well was only a few hundred feet away. He stared at the wall, hating the stones that lay between him and her.
Sweet Christ, he’d gone daft. His mind was nothing but softness now.
A few sweet kisses and he was like an untried lad who still believed a hard cock meant love everlasting.
Turning over, he lay on his back, despising the way his mind reminded him that May was only one more day away. His cock hardened with the idea, rising up in demand. The thing that drew a heated curse from his lips was the fact that the only woman he seemed to want soothing his hard flesh was Shannon McBoyd.
He was a bastard to want her. A man who wasn’t strong enough to overcome his lust in favor of remaining honorable was less than civilized. She was his captive, and only a marauding savage took advantage of a lass he’d stolen. He didn’t care if the world around him was filled with men who would label him soft for thinking such. He’d not use his lairdship to take what he wanted because the clansmen followed him and would not speak against him even when he was wrong.
That left him with a swollen cock and no way to ease it. There were women aplenty who would eagerly warm his bed, but they would come to him out of greed for his position.
A sarcastic grin twisted his lips; there was a reason to explain his fascination with Shannon. The woman was not interested in easing her life by spreading her thighs for him. That was an all-too-rare thing for a laird. She had good reason to attempt to charm him, and yet she refused.
Spirit. She had something burning inside of her that fascinated him with its pure brilliance. Even the fact that her life might be in jeopardy didn’t send her to him to secure a protector.
He wasn’t sure he’d be able to turn her away if she did.
She was drawn to him just as surely as he was to her. His grin faded, and his cock hardened further. Their personalities were like flint and iron; when they met, sparks flew. It was as alluring as it was annoying. But it was also exciting in a way that he’d never experienced.
Which only made him crave her more.
Seven
“Tomorrow will be a grand day.”
Baeth smiled at her. Shannon watched the older woman suspiciously. There was nothing about her smile; it was measured carefully, giving nothing away. The head of house pointed toward the open doors of the great hall.
“They’ve raised the maypole this morning; ye can see it from the steps.”
Shannon stepped forward and sighed when the afternoon sun touched her face. Spring had arrived fully; she could smell the rosemary on the breeze and the heather. The stale smell of winter was gone, leaving behind a sense of hope that made her want to smile in spite of the McLeren plaids in sight. Her McBoyd arisaid set her apart. She fingered the edge of the wool while looking through the open gate to see the maypole. It stood tall and proud against the blue sky, with lengths of thin, brightly colored cloth hanging from its top. A crown of new spring greenery was already set on top of it so that the celebrating might begin as soon as the sun rose. There had been much work to do today in the kitchens. The villagers had brought up freshly felled game for the feast that would be offered the next day. Meat pies and fruit tarts were being made, while the younger girls all whispered about what delights they hoped to sample on the morrow.
The clergy had preached against May Day that morning, but their urging to ignore the festival day was falling on deaf ears. The traditions went back further than anyone recalled, and the maypole standing so tall in the afternoon light confirmed that the McLerens would be carrying on with welcoming in the spring. No one wanted to tempt fate to turn her disfavor on them. It was fabled that May Day drove winter away so that crops would flourish. Any baby conceived on the morrow would be a welcome sign that fate, along with all her minions, was pleased and in the mood to bestow the gift of a good harvest.
“You should sit down and make yerself a wreath. I hear the laird gave ye permission to go out tomorrow; you do nae want to be missing that.”
Now she understood what Baeth was nudging her toward. There was a knowing look in her eye that made Shannon snort. Torin had been busy with his captains and his fellow laird all morning, which was a blessing. She’d tossed and turned most of the night, gaining little rest. Her mood was sour indeed. Baeth’s insinuation gained a soft hiss from her.
“That does nae mean I plan to wear a wreath or unbraid my hair. I just want to take a walk on something other than hard flooring.”
Baeth clicked her tongue. There was a wealth of knowledge in her eyes. Denying her attraction to Torin gained Shannon nothing with Baeth. The older woman was too wise to be fooled.
“Your tone is sharp for such a lighthearted topic. You younger ones have a way of not cherishing the brighter moments of life. Trust me, girl. They are too few and far between to toss aside so carelessly. Think on that before you say nay. Only fate knows if ye shall ever have another chance to choose whom ye would like to lie with. Many a lass must wed for more practical reasons, leaving her only a few short moments to enjoy a man she truly desires.”
Baeth’s words were blunt, but Shannon could not stomach the truth in them, so she walked down the steps. Baeth was wise, even if that knowledge chafed. It seemed such a short time ago that she’d feared her life was going to end at the point of Torin’s dagger. She’d wished for more time to taste the things she never had and those that she knew were sweet. All the things that brought warm happiness to the heart and a smile to her lips. She should make a wreath, sit down, and enjoy the feel of the greenery between her fingers while the scent of rosemary and heather filled her nose.
Who knew if she’d see next spring? If Atholl was condemned, it wasn’t too far-fetched an idea that her father might be next. Just because she was born a daughter didn’t mean she’d be spared. Not when one considered that she’d been on the road to wed into Atholl’s family. The Douglas had wiped out entire families before.
Was that why Torin had kissed her again? Because he’d just witnessed how easily life might end? Or rather, she should say… unjustly. Even if the scriptures did say the son was guilty of the father’s sins, she had to admit that in her heart she did not agree that it was always so. She was not guilty of her father’s murdering raid on the McLeren.
Had his kiss been a chance to touch that part of life that was sweetest? Baeth’s words echoed in her thoughts as her body recalled just how much she did enjoy being pressed against the McLeren laird. Only it wasn’t his position that she found attractive. It was the man he was. Her father and his friends were lairds, but they were not the same; there was no honor in them. At least not the sort that she felt in Torin. It drew her to him, makin
g his kiss something she couldn’t resist even though she knew she should, if only for the principle of the matter. She was his captive. Despising him was expected, but her life at Donan Tower was better than it had been in her father’s home. She could not hate him without cause, which made it impossible to ignore how much she wanted to discover what came after kissing.
For once Brockton was not in sight. Shannon let out a sigh of relief. With his laird returned, the man had no doubt run as quickly as possible away from the duty of guarding her. She finished descending the steps and found no one watching her. The men on the walls had become used to her—that, or they considered her broken.
She wasn’t sure if she cared just why they didn’t turn to stare at her, only that they offered her some peace. The yard was busy. Two wheeled carts came through the raised gate, their beds crowded with goods like peat for burning in the hearths or freshly cut hay for the horses. Younger boys were taking instruction with their wooden swords on one side of the yard. She stared at the number of them. There were more than fifty, and there were older lads whom she could see beyond the bridge working on their riding skills. Young girls followed their mothers to learn the art of making a home. The shutters were open, allowing her to see the workrooms with their spinning wheels and looms. Herbs were being hung from the ceilings now to dry before they would be stored away for the winter months.
Donan Tower was bristling with activity and growing excitement for the celebration day coming on the morrow. People walked just a bit faster while they hurried to finish chores so that they might begin making merry. There was happiness in the air, an excitement that drew her out into the open. If that was a pagan idea, so be it. The hall behind her was suddenly so dreary she didn’t think she could bear forcing her feet to carry her back inside.
She’d practically forgotten what earth felt like beneath her feet.
A shadow fell across her, and the sound of horses’ hooves filled her ears. She tipped her head back to look up at the huge stallion that was pulled to a halt but a few feet in front of her. Torin held the reins in a gloved hand, almost as if he’d sensed she was thinking about him and his kisses.
Sure command was reflected on his face, even as the animal pranced slightly. Torin moved in unison with the stallion, his thighs clasping the saddle. All the strength that she’d noticed in him was on display now. The trews he’d worn before were gone now, and she could see his bare thighs where the folds of his kilt were flipped aside.
“You have spent too many hours indoors, Shannon; yer skin is pasty. I’ll take ye outside the walls if ye have the courage to ride out on the back of my horse.” He extended his free hand toward her. She chewed on her lower lip because the invitation was too tempting. The warning in the back of her mind wasn’t able to compete with the desire to feel the sun on her skin. There was a hint of challenge on his face too, but that only made her want to go with him even more.
Who knew if she’d get the chance again?
To have the choice to mount that horse was too much power to resist. Her hand landed in his before she bothered contemplating whether it was wise to accept an invitation from a man whom she craved so much. All that seemed to matter was the delight that sprang up inside her when his fingers closed around her wrist.
“Hold on to me, lass.”
His voice was husky and tempting. Her arms went around him without any pulling or rope. She wanted to touch him too much, but the soft sound that came from his lips surprised her. She felt it vibrating through his chest with her arms more than she heard it.
The moment her hands closed around him, he pressed his heels against the belly of the horse. The stallion surged forward, making for the raised gate. Excitement rose inside her; there was no stopping it. The number of eyes on her was unable to affect her joy. The moment they crossed onto the bridge, she felt as if she could breathe again. Like there had been a belt strapped too tightly around her chest, making her struggle for every breath she’d drawn since being brought inside the curtain wall.
She suddenly noticed how green the hills were and how strong the man she clung to was. His scent filled her senses, touching off heat that spread rapidly over her skin. Her heart accelerated, and she felt his heart beating against her cheek, where it lay against his back. Her hips moved in unison with the horse, and she suddenly realized how intimate the motion was.
But that only sent a bolt of heat through her. Torin made for the woods that grew above the village. His horse was clearly used to such ventures, for the beast never hesitated. The new leaves on the trees blocked out some of the sunlight. Looking up, Shannon watched it sparkling through the openings in the branches. It was cooler in the forest, but her skin was still warm, and the man she clung to even more so.
“I know I promised you some sun, but I want to show you how grand the Highlands can be. ’Tis a fine place to call home.”
He lowered her to the ground and swung his leg over the neck of his horse almost in the same moment. But he didn’t release her hand. He clasped it firmly and tugged her toward the edge of a cliff. The trees didn’t grow along the edge of it, and that allowed for a spectacular view. Out in front of her were hills green and rich with newly blooming heather. The scent of it was carried on the wind. Water flowed down from some loch hidden within the hills, while large rocks broke through the earth. The sky was deepest blue above it all, with fluffy clouds that looked so close she might raise her hand and touch them. Below her was a fall that would be deadly if one were foolish enough to go too close to the edge, but she was too absorbed with the wonder around her to be afraid.
“Ye see there, lass? The Highlands have beauty, no’ just savages.” His hand was still holding hers, and he had her arm pulled down straight to keep her beside his body. “Even if I did act like one when I brought ye here.”
His voice was soft. It was almost an apology, something she’d not expected from him. She wasn’t sure how to deal with this side of him. He was suddenly likable, and that removed the last barrier between them.
He was pulling on her hand, and she looked down to where his fingers were wrapped around her own. Her flesh was very happy, enjoying the security of that hold. But he released her, sending a soft lament through her body.
“It is a very nice view.” Polite and sweet, her words were as close as she might come to thanking him for taking her outside the castle. Moving away from him, she discovered herself shuffling her steps because she truly didn’t want to part from him.
No, she wanted to have him for her lover…
There was no denying the thought. It flowed into her mind like warm honey, thick and sweet, to fill all her senses. A blush began to stain her cheeks, but she turned her attention back to Torin and gasped softly when she met his eyes.
Hunger shone in those dark orbs. It was startling to see it in the light of day, and yet somehow expected. She realized she’d have been disappointed if he didn’t look at her with passion now that they were away from every set of eyes that wanted to critique them.
“Why did you bring me out here?” The question crossed her lips before she thought about it. He looked surprised but shrugged, his wide shoulders moving easily beneath his shirt. Her eyes were drawn to where his collar lay open, the ties dangling down to lie against his chest. Creamy skin, lightly bronzed by the sun, was open to her gaze where the edges of his shirt parted.
“I wanted to see if we might try just being a man and a woman. Without the colors of our clans between us.”
“We are still on McLeren land.”
He tilted his head slightly. “Well, there’s only so far I can take ye before my ability to protect ye is jeopardized.”
Yet he’d made the effort, which he didn’t have to do. It was a gift that she could not overlook easily, unless she wanted to be disagreeable simply because of who he was. But the scorn she’d felt her first night at Donan Tower kept her from that; hating anyone for t
he family they were born into was wrong. She would not treat others to that unjust fate. She recalled the sting too well.
“I understand.”
His mouth curved into a grin. “But are ye pleased?”
Her own lips twitched, and she turned away to hide it. She shuffled her feet once more as she walked back into the trees and wove slowly between their trunks. She could feel him behind her, following her every step. She was suddenly shy, unsure of how to answer him. But she liked knowing that he was watching her and following her. There was something seductive about it. She felt it deep inside her belly, and it flowed toward the top of her sex. It was shocking to become so aware of that part of her body.
“That shouldn’t matter to you.”
Her words were sharper than she’d intended. Turning around, she looked back to discover what expression crossed his face first.
“Yer father should nae have contracted ye into a marriage with the only purpose being to overthrow the rightful king.” Torin stood still, watching her from behind an expression that told her little. His eyes glittered with frustration, and his lips were pressed into a hard line. He suddenly blew out a harsh breath.
“Yet he did, and I do care if ye are pleased today. I do nae care for the manner in which I brought ye to my home. Donan Tower is not a prison.”
“There are Highlanders who do not share yer hesitation about making their homes into fortresses that keep their enemies locked away.”
There were stories of people who had never been seen again once they were captured.
“Not on McLeren land; not while I am laird.”
Pride edged his words, and she witnessed it on his face. He leaned back against a thick tree trunk. The relaxed pose drew her closer to him. She had never seen him so at ease; it was hypnotic, because it made him far more human. He lifted one hand and curled his finger to beckon her toward him.