Possessed by the Highlander

by TERRI BRISBIN

  And then he began again until there was no place on their bodies that had not been touched and kissed and tasted and felt by the other. He did not seek his own release until she cried or screamed or moaned or sighed out hers and then each time, he waited for her racing heart to calm.

  And then he began anew.

  The life in the keep went on around them and they remained cocooned away from it all, lost in each other and the unmatched passion that finding the person you could love forever brings.

  Sometime in the day, a meal appeared on their table. The cook would be horrified to learn that they ate sitting naked but for a blanket over their shoulders and that they put some of his dishes to other uses.

  The plum preserves were difficult to lick off certain places and could be removed only with a focused effort. Duncan was better at that than Marian, but he did not seem to mind that she needed more time and more strokes to lick that part of him where they smeared it clean of the sticky coating.

  Later, buckets of hot water appeared and although they tried to use them to wash, the feel of the soap as Duncan lathered that place between her legs simply led to other things and the water cooled before they could use it. And she would never look at the table without remembering the things they’d done on its strong frame.

  When darkness fell over Lairig Dubh and the keep quieted for the night and as they finally lay completely sated and exhausted in their bed, she knew that he would tell her of the Robertson messenger. He never stopped touching her, though. His hand rested on her shoulder or hip or even on her breast as though it belonged there. And in many ways, it felt right to have him there.

  “I leave in the morn to meet your brother,” he said without preface. “He awaits me at the MacCallum’s keep.”

  She began to sit up but he held her next to him. “I will go with you, Duncan.”

  “Nay, you will not. The weather may not hold and you are not used to traveling. You will only slow me down.”

  He was correct but she was not happy about it. “What does he want? What did the messenger say?”

  “Before Gair knocked him senseless for insulting you—” he winked at her then “—he said only that your brother summoned me there.”

  “I do not like this, Duncan. Do you ken what this is about?” She could only imagine what her brother wanted with Duncan. But, to rouse him in the cold of winter and to make him travel halfway across Scotland, it must be something important.

  “I think we both ken what this is about, though you ken more than I on the subject.” He sat up then and leaned back against the headboard. “What surprises await me there, Marian? Give me some idea of what he will tell me.”

  “He will tell you nothing, because he cannot,” she promised.

  “Cannot or will not?”

  “They are the same result, Duncan.”

  The last time they’d had this exchange of words, it was so much easier not to tell him. Now, she longed to let them loose and free herself from the past and all its pain and suffering. Unfortunately sharing the truth would not free him, only leaving him would do that. And loving him as she did, ’twas the price she was willing to pay for his freedom.

  “So, ’tis a fruitless journey that I undertake into the cold of winter then?”

  “I fear so, unless something else has happened that would bring him so far?”

  She nearly missed it, for the fleeting expression moved so quickly into and out of his gaze, but she saw it. There was something else afoot that he would not speak of. Allowing herself to be a coward for the first time in such a long time, Marian purposely turned her gaze from his, hoping to make him believe she’d not seen it.

  Once he spoke to her brother, things between them would change. She knew not how, but only that it would be different upon his return. Now, though, she felt greedy about not giving him up. She reached out and touched his muscular chest. Then she slid her hand down until it reached the sheet that lay over his legs…and other interesting parts.

  “Well, then, the morning comes too soon, Duncan,” she said, resting her hand on the rippling muscles of his stomach and skimming it up over his male nipples and then down to the bones of his hips. “I do not want to waste a moment more fretting over what happens beyond that time.”

  He took hold of her wrist, she thought to stop her action, but instead he guided her down to the part of him she wanted to touch. Grasping its length, she stroked him again and again until he finally saw the wisdom in her approach.

  Nothing could change what happened next, all she could control was how she spent her last hours with the man she loved.

  She thought he could not bring her to another release, but she was wrong. This last time, as he began to grow harder just before his seed spilled, he stared deep into her eyes, willing her to say the words she could not. Marian wondered if he would stop or if he would do the one thing that could end any choice she might have in the matter. In the end, he did as he promised he would do and protected her as much as he could.

  In the end, he was an honorable man and his honor would be the thing that would stand between them and any chance of happiness together.

  When she woke in the morn, he was gone and she felt as empty and alone as she had before she met him. ’Twas time for her to learn that feeling again.

  Duncan rode as long as he could, driving himself, his horse and the messenger hard to reach the MacCallum’s lands. By now, Iain waited for him and Duncan was eager to hear his reasons for this call. He was even more eager to make the bastard pay for what he’d done to his sister.

  Without knowing all the details, without knowing more than he did right at this moment, Iain should be a dead man. Letting his sister watch her friend die in childbirth, forcing her from their clan and labeling her a harlot to keep some truth from being kenned were all reasons he should be dead as soon as Duncan reached him. ’Twas the still-too-many unanswered questions that would keep him alive.

  They’d made good time the first day, reaching one of the far mountain shielings by nightfall. But, the storm hit the next morning and delayed them a whole day. Fergus was not an unpleasant fellow, but sitting with him and their horses in a shepherd’s wee sod hut freezing his arse off was not something Duncan wanted to do. And especially not so soon after leaving the warmth and comfort of Marian’s arms and her bed.

  Five days after leaving Lairig Dubh, they arrived at the MacCallum’s keep, nigh to frozen and wet to the skin. Duncan handed off his horse with orders for his care to one of the men waiting by the gates. There would still be four or five hours of travel possible if he finished with this matter and got back on the road. He would need to use one of the MacCallum’s horses, but he’d done that before.

  Tugging the layers of plaid loose and pulling it free as he entered the hall following Fergus’s path, he found a servant waiting to take it. And holding a large cup of steaming mulled wine for him. He drank nearly the whole of it and nodded for more before looking around the hall for his quarry. He sat at table with Athdar and the laird, near a blazing fire that filled the front of the expansive room with heat.

  The MacCallum called out to him and walked back to greet him. Duncan barely spared a nod to the old laird as he downed the last of the wine, tossed the cup on the table and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Then, he punched Iain square in the face and knocked him to the floor.

  “Here now, lad,” the MacCallum said, wrapping his huge arms around Duncan and holding him back. Duncan was nowhere near done letting this bastard suffer for the damage he’d wrought. But, the laird, though much older, was strong and held him tight.

  Iain roused and, with Athdar’s aid, climbed to his feet, wiping at the blood that poured from his nose and mouth. He nodded at Duncan.

  “And greetings to you, my brother-by-marriage.”

  His cocky tone made Duncan even madder and he struggled against the MacCallum’s grip. “I promised him the hospitality of my hall, Duncan. Ye canna do this.”

  Dunca
n calmed and offered a grim smile. “Well then, laird. All I can give you is my word that I will not kill him in your hall.”

  Placated by that much of a promise or mayhap realizing the futility of trying to stop it, the laird stepped back and called for the hall to be cleared. Duncan smiled genuinely then, for he would have his chance to wreak a bit of vengeance on Iain for those who could not or would not. And for the pain he caused to Marian.

  Duncan lifted his scabbard over his head and laid it on the table, along with his sgian-dubh and another longer dagger he carried in his belt. This would be a fight with his fists, he needed no weapons to help him in this battle. Turning, he faced Iain and raised his fists in challenge.

  If he thought Iain would let him pummel him without some resistance he was wrong. The man gave as good or as bad as he got, but Duncan was fighting for something more—he fought for the woman he loved. Two benches were broken, a small table was crushed, a tapestry was torn from the wall and several clay pots were shattered before Duncan knelt on Marian’s brother’s chest and tried to remember why he should let him live.

  “Why? Just tell me why she needed to carry the weight of your lies? Why did she bear the punishment?” Iain said nothing, which enraged him even more; he shook the man.

  “Why?” he yelled again.

  “Why did she not tell you, Peacemaker?” Iain gasped out.

  Not able to see or think clearly at that moment, he punched Iain into unconsciousness and then fell to the floor himself, exhausted by five days on the road and by the beating he’d taken as well. Struggling to his feet, he strode outside, smashed the layer of ice on the horse trough with his bloodied fists and dunked his head in the frigid water.

  Tossing his head back, the icy rivulets dripped down his body even as steam from his sweaty skin escaped into the cold air. Duncan splashed more of the water on his bloodied hands, rubbing them clean and then he leaned down and did the same to his face.

  Damn!

  In all of his years as Connor’s man, he had never, never lost his temper. He’d never used his fists or sword to accomplish that which his words could. He’d never attacked a sworn ally of his clan. And he’d never broken a pledge of hospitality, for once given even enemies could sit at table together without fear.

  In the short time since his arrival here, he’d broken every rule he lived by and was known to keep. And due to his actions, Iain now was in no shape to answer his questions. He would have to delay at least another day before he could return to Marian.

  With his temper and his body now cooled, Duncan walked back into the hall and found Tavish’s people cleaning the floor and moving tables back into place. Iain was gone from where he’d left him and the laird and his son stood waiting for him.

  “Do ye wish to speak on this matter, Duncan?” Tavish asked him. Shaking his head, he gathered his weapons from the table.

  “Nay. There is naught to accomplish by talking now. I would apologize for my lack of control and for dishonoring your pledge of hospitality. I acted only on my own concerns and in no way am Connor’s man in this.”

  Instead of berating him, the laird smacked him on the shoulders and winked. “Here now, Duncan. What man hasna lost control when he loves a woman? Iain will mend. He is being seen to even now. By the morrow he can tell ye what ye need to ken.”

  So, old Tavish had been listening and watching the fight after all. And he’d seen what it had taken Duncan so long to recognize about his feelings for Marian.

  “Edana,” the laird said, calling out to one of the servants. “See Duncan to his chamber and get him some food and wine.” Tavish turned back to him. “Ye will hiv the chamber ye had before.”

  “I can sleep out here in the hall, Tavish.”

  “Nay, I will not hiv Connor’s man sleeping on my floor.”

  The laird was not going to give in, so Duncan nodded and followed the servant to the room. Just as they entered other servants were emptying the last bucket of hot water into the large tub.

  Edana waited for him to remove his plaid and his shirt so she could take it to be washed and he climbed into the tub. As she closed the door and he sat down in the water, he realized that Marian was correct about two things.

  He would never fit into this tub.

  Iain would not tell him what he’d come to find out.

  Chapter Twenty

  Duncan took a great deal of satisfaction as he watched Iain limp into the hall the next morning. Although his own lip was cracked and his left eye swollen, he’d not sustained the same injuries as he’d inflicted on his opponent. With a sense of uncharitable glee, he watched as Iain held his side as he sat down at the table and as he grimaced when placing the cup on his mouth. Stitches to close the gash over Iain’s eye, the large bruise on his jaw and guessing that his rib was most likely cracked or broken simply made Duncan smile.

  And although Duncan ate with enthusiasm this morn, he watched as Iain added more cream and a healthy measure of uisge-beatha to thin out the porridge in his bowl. Then, he poured it into his mouth, drinking it down. The laughter that escaped did not go unnoticed.

  Finally, once those living in the keep had broken their fast and went off to see to their duties and tasks, Duncan and Iain sat alone facing each other across the table.

  “You summoned me here, laird. I but wait on your word,” he said, not even trying to hide his sarcasm.

  “I thought you would accept the gift I gave you and be done with your questions, Peacemaker,” he said quietly. Iain lifted a cup and drank deeply from it. “Instead you sent your dogs out sniffing.”

  “You could hardly expect me to sit back and accept your lies…or did you? Did you think the gold would turn my head as it has turned others on your behalf?” Duncan watched Iain’s eyes for signs of deceit.

  Iain leaned forward, resting on his elbows. “I gave you a virgin bride with a substantial dowry. I paid you for any inconvenience or insult suffered. Another man would have accepted that gift and never spoken of the rest.”

  “You gave me your sister, Iain. A woman scarred with the wounds of living a lie—a lie at your behest and for your good I suspect. And you had not the decency to warn me on our wedding night.”

  Although Iain’s face flushed, he said nothing. As Duncan expected. The stalemate went on for several seconds before Iain issued his command.

  “Call off your dogs, Duncan. You ken not what they may find.”

  Duncan slammed his fists on the table then, still wanting it to be Iain beneath them. “Then tell me what they will find. Tell me what you have forced Marian to hide. Tell me why she would sacrifice her own life for yours. How can you call yourself a man and laird of your clan if you earned it on her suffering?”

  “Call off your dogs before it is too late,” he repeated through clenched teeth, not responding to his insult.

  The clamoring of someone’s arrival in the yard interrupted their privacy. Tavish entered, calling out orders to clan and servants as a small contingent of men were escorted in and brought before the laird.

  His men. And from their expressions, ’twas much too late.

  “Laird,” he said, rising to stand in front of the MacCallum. “These are my men, on their way back to Lairig Dubh. You have met Eachann and Farlen before, they have served Connor for many years.” The two stepped forward and bowed to the laird. “Donald is newer to my laird’s service, but he was with me on my last assignment.” Donald bowed then.

  “Welcome to my hall,” Tavish said, waving to some of the servants. “See to their comfort.”

  “We need to speak,” Farlen whispered under his breath. “Away from him.” Duncan did not need to see who Farlen spoke of.

  “Laird, if you would excuse us for a short time?”

  He did not need to explain further. Men arriving in the middle of a winter snowstorm were not there for pleasure. Duncan waited while each man got a cup of wine and then led them to the chamber he’d used last night. Once there, it took only minutes before he had a
clearer idea of what he faced, but there were still gaps in the story.

  “She has been ill-used, Duncan,” Farlen said as he finished conveying what they’d discovered. “By her family and her clan.” He swallowed the rest of the wine in his cup and slammed it down on a table. “And I canna abide a man who would use a woman that way whether he be father or brother or even husband.” Farlen’s stare spoke of his expectations that as her husband Duncan would right the wrongs done to Marian.

  But Farlen did not ken the larger aspects of this problem. If it were only a matter of declaring Marian was a virgin on their wedding night, it could be simply handled. Lands, titles, reputations, even lives hung in the balance of this matter and so much was at risk, not the least of which was Marian’s and Ciara’s future.

  “There is something else, Duncan,” Eachann said. “The manner of her death and her bairn’s has never sat well with her family. There was talk of them seeking you out over this matter.”

  “Why would they seek me?”

  “Word has spread of your marriage to the Robert…to Marian and of her having a daughter. They have put some of the puzzle together and think that the lass could be Beitris’s last bairn.” At his frown, Eachann went on, “There were rumors of all kinds at the time of Beitris’s death and the story of the Robertson Harlot overshadowed all the others. Beitris’s clan has never trusted the Robertson’s explanation and seeks the truth as well.”

  “Can you ride now?” he asked.

  At their nods, he walked out to the hall and spoke to the laird of their needs. Within an hour, they were on the road back to Lairig Dubh. Slowed down by the weather once more, it took four days to reach home. Upon entering the gates, he discovered the Broch Dubh was now an armed camp.

  He jumped from his horse, intent on finding Marian, but Connor stood outside the doors to the keep waiting for him. He dismissed the men with a nod and followed Connor to a place where they could speak in private. Duncan recognized the place high on the walls, between two of the towers as a place where no one but the laird or his wife were permitted entrance to.