A sickening wave of heartbreaking sympathy washed across her. Katie pressed a hand atop the necklet, felt the jewel warm to her touch as though it were emphasizing all that its previous owner had endured. Such courage. Such pain. This precious bit of metal and stone had once belonged to a woman who had been a hell of lot stronger than Katie had ever had to be. The piece of jewelry suddenly felt as though it weighed a ton and Katie struggled with the desire to rip it off her throat. She had no right to wear this.
“I can’t wear this.” She fumbled with the hook and chain at the back of her neck, frustration building as the bit of jewelry held fast. “I have no right to wear this—take it off me. Now.”
Flora rushed over and stayed her hands. “No, m’lady.” She gently pulled Katie’s hands away and held them. “Ye have every right and I ken it in m’heart that she would’ve wished her things t’come to you. Ye do her memory proud, ye do, and ’tis my honor t’serve ye.”
Katie blinked against the sting of tears and squeezed Flora’s hands in return. What a place this was. What a people. How the hell could she ever measure up, ever survive in this time?
She forced a smile she didn’t feel and smoothed her hands down the folds of her skirt. “Then I guess you’d better show me the way to the great hall, so I can meet the clans.”
Chapter 14
Damn. He’s right where he belongs.
The certainty hit her as soon as she saw him. Hit. Her. Hard. So hard, she caught her breath and froze in the archway opening into the great hall.
Ramsay stood on the dais at one end of the cavernous meeting room that sprawled the length and width of the keep. The great hall, as it was known by all, comprised the center core of the stronghold—and Ramsay now reigned supreme over it.
Formidable. Imposing. Arresting. All those adjectives fell short when it came to describing the mesmerizing man who had obviously not only found his element but totally embraced it.
He clutched his spear at his side like a king—no like a Greek god, like Zeus himself holding his scepter as he surveyed Olympus. A different breastplate from the one he’d worn earlier covered his chest. This one reminded Katie of the one Ramsay’s father had worn back at the altar. Highly polished iron and brass pieces shaped into what she was certain were meaningful symbols were inset into the piece of thick leather armor that had been dyed black and oiled to a fine sheen that reflected the light from the torches and the candles.
Wide stance. Broad shoulders thrown back. Head held high. A heart-stopping leader overseeing all his subjects. When his piercing gaze landed on her, Katie swallowed hard and an involuntary shiver of damn rippled through her. This wasn’t Ramsay, the sweet, hesitant introvert of Brady, North Carolina. This man was Ramsay, the fearless warlord.
He smiled. A real smile that proudly shone from his eyes, then he held out his hand and waited.
A gentle but firm push nudged at the small of her back. “Go to him, m’lady,” Flora whispered from behind her. “Dinna fash, I’ll be a standin’ to the side of the pedestal if ye have need of the slightest thing.”
Oddly enough, the knowledge that the mere slip of a girl that she’d just met would be nearby did make her feel somewhat better.
Katie stepped into the room and the rumbling undertone of the multiple conversations evaporated, leaving behind a nerve-jarring silence. She swallowed hard and kept her focus locked on Ramsay as she made her way to the dais and took his hand.
“Yer breathtaking,” Ramsay said as he beamed at her with a look she’d never seen on any man’s face before. It was a shiver-inducing mixture of pride, adoration, and pure primal hunger. He steadied her as she navigated the pair of wide stone steps of the dais, assisting her struggle to keep her long skirts from grabbing her feet and throwing her to the ground.
He kept his gaze locked with hers as he met her on the middle step and pressed his mouth close to her ear right before she’d reached the top. “Truly breathtaking, dear one, and yer all mine.” He brushed a tender kiss to her cheek before stepping back and guiding her to his side.
“Thank you,” she managed to whisper, then swallowed hard and tried to suppress a quivering tremble that ended in a longing ache for Ramsay to get even closer and tell her more. She pulled in a deep breath and slowly blew it out. He’s playing to the crowd. Get a grip.
“He whispered in your ear,” her lonely inner self argued. “How the hell could the crowd hear that?”
Shut up. Katie blinked away the silent argument, gave a sideways look at Ramsay and smiled.
Lifting his spear high with one hand, Ramsay squeezed her hand with his other, then hugged it to the center of his chest. “I proudly present to ye the lady of the keep. My wife. Katherine.”
Katie inwardly cringed. She hated her full name and never used it, but everyone always easily guessed it. The only time she’d ever heard it as a child was when she was in a shitload of trouble. She forced a smile at the many upturned faces aimed at her. So many. Damn, where had they all come from? She swallowed hard and tried not to tremble.
Gordon MacTavish, tattoo-head as Katie fondly thought of him, stepped away from the group gathered closest to the dais. The spiritual leader of Clan MacTavish looked several shades cleaner than he had when they’d first come upon him in the woods.
His solemn gaze fixed on Katie, he moved forward until he stood on the steps just beneath her. He took a knee at her feet, bowed his head, and held up his dagger to Katie as though it were a cross. “As I pledged m’fealty to Himself, so do I pledge m’fealty to you, m’lady. As I pledge—so pledges m’clan, Clan MacTavish.” The man spoke in easily understood Old English even though it was well seasoned with his heavy Highlander accent.
“Thank you.”
Gordon remained on his knee, head bowed, and dagger raised. The man was obviously waiting for something.
Shit. What do I say to unfreeze him? Damn druids. If they’d written some of this stuff down, I would’ve arrived in the tenth century better prepared. She was well versed in feudal oaths of fealty. Had even done a paper on them while getting her master’s. But who knew how the druids did it?
Ramsay came to her rescue. He leaned in close, his lips tickled against her ear as he whispered, “Tell him yer honored to accept his fealty and Clan MacTavish’s fealty as well. Then take his uplifted hand at the base of his dagger. Clasp it between both of yers and tell him ye’ll e’er protect him.”
Okay, then. I got this. Katie leaned forward and took Gordon’s hand and dagger between both of hers. She took in a deep breath and blew it out, determined to speak clearly and with the strength the clan would expect.
“You honor me, Gordon MacTavish, as does your clan. I accept your fealty and the fealty of Clan MacTavish and all its septs.” That should take care of all the little offshoot clans. I hope they called them septs in the tenth century. At the moment, she couldn’t remember.
Still holding Gordon’s hand between hers, Katie continued, “You and Clan MacTavish have my protection as long as I draw breath—I so swear it.” Then she leaned forward and pecked a kiss to the handle of the knife. Nobody gasped or acted surprised or shocked, so hopefully, her little ad-lib hadn’t gone awry.
Gordon stiffly rose from his kneeling position, gave a curt nod, and returned to stand among the crowd, but not before Katie noticed an emotional sheen of moisture in his eyes. Feeling a moment of panic, Katie quickly looked to Ramsay. He reassured her with a proud smile and a single nod.
Whew. I didn’t mess up. She noticed a general shifting of the crowd toward the other end of the room. For the most part, all the men were filing out the wide double doors that Katie assumed led to the bailey. A few women appeared to be going outside with them but very few. Most of the women gathered at the fringes of the crowd, patiently waiting in the shadow of the gallery that ran around the upper level of the room, were now scurrying about, shouting o
rders to several young men carrying in rows of tables and benches and placing them up and down the length of the hall.
“That’s it?” Talk about anticlimactic. Katie sidled closer to Ramsay then fluffed out the tangle of skirts determined to trip her. “What’s happening now?” She asked in a normal tone. With all the chaos in the room, there was absolutely no danger of anyone overhearing her.
“They’re preparing for the MacTavish cèilidh—the first feast. They couldna proceed without yer blessing upon the clan.” Ramsay took her hand and led her down the steps and over to a side door leading to a much more private torchlit hallway that appeared to run behind the great hall. He closed the door behind them and motioned to the left. “We’ve a couple of hours to ourselves now. Gordon showed me our private gardens. This way, lass. ’Twill be much cooler there. Come. We’ll enjoy a bit of fresh air whilst I prepare ye for the coming days.”
“Sounds ominous.” She hadn’t missed that he’d said the servants were preparing for the first feast. She grabbed hold of her skirts and hiked them up to her knees. Screw decorum. She wasn’t used to all this yardage. She hurried to keep pace with Ramsay. Damn…I miss my jeans.
They came to the end of the hallway that dead-ended in a wall of stone highlighted by a pair of torches.
“Let me guess,” Katie mused as she moved forward and carefully traced her fingers along the cool rough edges of the blocks making up the wall. “Secret door…somewhere.” She’d ran across these a few times in various medieval castles she’d studied. The trick was looking for the slightest variance in the seaming since none of the blocks were held together with mortar.
Ramsay grinned and gave her a wink that clearly said I dare you. “Aye, lass. Think ye can best it?”
“Of course, I can best it…just give me a minute.” This was her forte—her favorite kind of brainteaser.
“I meant what I said earlier, ye ken?” Ramsay lightly traced the tip of his finger in teasing circles along her exposed shoulder and across her bare back.
On fire and aching in all the right spots, Katie rolled her shoulders away from his deadly hypnotizing touch. “Stop trying to distract me.”
Ramsay chuckled—and didn’t stop.
She turned, lifted the torch out of its brace, and held it closer to the wall hiding the secret door to the private garden. She wasn’t sure how to deal with what Ramsay had said earlier and she damn well wasn’t sure how to deal with this brave, no-inhibitions Ramsay. Actually, she knew how she wanted to deal with him, but she was just a little bit…afraid. He was acting like this now. Would he be the same when they got back to North Carolina?
“There!” She pushed hard on one of the smaller stone blocks at nearly waist level. The secret door complied, slowly swinging open to reveal a small secluded garden, a very private inner courtyard at the back half of the keep, and judging by the rows of windows above them, the garden was surrounded by a wing of multilevel rooms that curved around it. She returned the torch to its holder and gave Ramsay a smug look and pointed forward. “After you, my chieftain.”
“Nay,” Ramsay responded soft and low as he brushed a kiss to her shoulder. “After yerself, m’dear one.”
Turning away to hide the flash of heat she felt stinging her cheeks, Katie grabbed her skirts and hurried forward. I’m so in unknown territory right now. She paused at the opening of a secluded maze of hedges, nervously plucking at leaves and waiting for Ramsay on the narrow path of moss-bordered flagstones.
Once Ramsay had entered the garden, he turned and studied the doorway for a brief moment, then pulled on an iron ring imbedded in the wall beside the door. The door shifted closed, sealing the wall of blocks as though the opening had never been there.
And now we’re locked in. Her heartrate doubled.
He offered his arm and gave her a determined, smoldering look—one that said, “I mean to have ye.”
Katie took his arm, finding it hard to breathe and Ramsay would have to be deaf to miss the loud pounding of her heart. “This is really nice. A secret inner courtyard. I’ve run across inner courtyards before but when you’re digging them up after they’ve been decimated by war and time, it’s hard to tell if they were ever secret or not.” Damn, shut me up. I am so babbling.
“Katie.” Ramsay pulled her to a stop, turning her to face him and snugging her against him in an oh-so-dangerous level of closeness.
“Yes?” She kept her eyes focused on the polished strip of hammered-bronze piping attached to the throat of his chestplate that spread to his shoulders.
“Look at me,” he said softly. “Meet me in the eye, lass.”
Katie allowed her gaze to dart up for a moment, then quickly lowered it again. No way could she look in those eyes long…not with the storm of emotions she’d just seen brewing.
“Katie,” Ramsay gently scolded in an I want you whisper. He hooked a finger under her chin and lifted. “I canna believe that the woman who fears nothin’, willna look her husband in the eye.”
He would have to say that. Katie raised her gaze to his and immediately found herself trapped.
Victory flashed in Ramsay’s eyes—that and a whole lot more. It was the whole lot more part that concerned Katie the most because she was quite convinced that she wanted the whole lot more just as badly as he did.
“Um…you said you were going to warn me about the next few days.” She swallowed hard. If he kissed her like he’d done earlier, she couldn’t be held responsible for anything else that might take place right in the middle of these thorny bushes.
“Later,” Ramsay assured as he held her tighter and fanned her inhibitions even further away with a slow tender kiss, an appetizer for things to come. His hands slid from her waist up to her bare shoulders then cupped her face as he paused the kiss, parting their mouths just enough to brush against her lips as he spoke.
“I’ve wanted ye since I met ye, woman.” He kissed her again, longer and harder, his rasping whisper, deep and throaty with need, echoing through her mind. He raised his head again, his expression solemn as he looked her in the eye. “I willna lie t’ye, Katie. I’m glad that Dwyn bound our souls in marriage.” He trailed his thumb along her jaw then ever so slowly allowed his fingers to brush down her throat and tease along her collarbone. “And now ’tis time we’re bound completely.”
Bound? As in…but…Her conscience was all squeaky and weak but the voice in her heart roared. He said, “Bound completely!” Hell, yes! It’s about time! Katie ran the tip of her tongue along her lips, savoring Ramsay’s lingering taste and hungering for more. The last shred of her conscience made one final valiant stab. Ask him if he happened to bring any condoms?
Ramsay lifted his head a bit more and frowned. “What is it, lass? What troubles ye? I see wariness in yer eyes.”
Her body screamed hell no, don’t stop but her mind scolded, we have to. Katie shifted, looked away, and took a step back. She clasped her hands in front of her, squeezing her fingers tight to help wring out the words. “Two things.” She swallowed hard. “Did you happen to bring any…um…protection? And…uh…what happens when we get back? To North Carolina?”
Ramsay didn’t move closer but his whole being called out to her, bid her return to his embrace. He studied her for the span of a heartbeat then said, “When we get back to North Carolina, I will feel the same way about ye that I do now.” One corner of his tempting mouth curved upward in a wry knowing smile. “I can almost guarantee that I’ll need ye even more than I do at this verra moment—and I’ll want ye by my side then as I do now.” Damn. He knows exactly what I want to hear. But there was no guile in Ramsay’s eyes. The man meant every word he’d said. Katie eased back a step, wrestling with the powerful mix of emotions and the need to toss all logic and caution to the wind and just be in Ramsay’s arms.
He’d totally skirted the condom question. But I’m caught up on my pills. Sho
uld be okay. Shouldn’t be any surprises.
“What say ye, Katie?” Ramsay asked, steadily moving closer. “Will ye trust me?”
Trust him? Katie shifted back another step. A stone bench bumped against the back of her knees, rudely pointing out that she was being ridiculous—running away from what she really wanted if she’d just let go and take it. Katie reached out and slid both hands up Ramsay’s chest as he closed the distance between them.
“Yes,” she firmly stated as she jerked loose the leather ties and hefted Ramsay’s heavy armor to the ground beside them. She slid her fingers into the neckline of his léine, the feel of hot hard muscle doing wonders for her affirmation. Pressing against him, she dove into his stormy gaze and embraced the emotions threatening to drown her. “I’m willing to trust you,” she whispered. “Yes, I trust you.”
“Aye, then, love. Time t’strengthen that trust.” Ramsay kissed her—hot and deep. Leaving no doubt that he was sealing a pact to bind her to him. He caught her up hard against him. Layers of kilt, dress, and chemise be damned. As Katie lost herself in his kiss, giving, taking, tasting, reeling, she ground into him and clutched at his kilt-covered ass, hungering for the hard lines trapped in the layers of clothing between them.
As if reading her mind, Ramsay dropped his hands to the cheeks of her ass and picked her up without breaking the kiss. Turning with ease, he lowered himself to the stone bench, rucked up Katie’s skirts, and placed her astraddle his lap.
“So, this is why they didn’t wear underwear,” Katie panted against his forehead as he rained kisses across her exposed décolletage. Ramsay purred out a low rumbling laugh as he caressed the mounding tops of her breasts, his fiery hot mouth licking and tasting, nipping and nuzzling.
Unable to stand anymore, Katie grabbed the sides of his head and lifted his face to hers. “Untie my laces so I can breathe then move your damn kilt.”
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