Chapter 27
After Albus lit a candle for her outside her chamber, he ushered her in and closed the door. The latch dropped into place behind her with finality.
Elspeth refused help from a serving woman, so Albus called none to aid her. It was better to be alone with her thoughts than be the object of a lady’s maid’s speculations. The room was cold despite the lit braziers. She could see her breath.
She wiggled quickly out of the borrowed finery and draped it with care on the ornately carved trunk to which it would be returned. Shivering, she slipped on the fresh chemise that Aileen had left draped across the foot of the bed next to a warm bed shawl.
The linen was frail and the lace at the bodice yellowed with age, but it would serve.
She had no desire to climb into the thick feather tick yet, though it looked inviting. The room smelled much sweeter since the linens had been changed and the mattress aired. The window was still propped open slightly, but the glowing braziers weren’t keeping up with the cold that rushed in with the fresh air.
Elspeth wrapped a shawl around her shoulders, walked over to the window, and looked out, hugging herself against the breath of winter. Fires from her father’s encampment dotted the plain beyond the curtain wall, hundreds of men intent on freeing her from Rob’s imprisonment.
Of course, some of the men were Lachlan’s, but she wasn’t sure why he was even here. He couldn’t claim to love her. He didn’t even know her. Drummond could have arrayed his fighting men against Rob only out of a sense of insult to his own honor, not hers.
But even after all that had happened, her father was here because he loved her. She was surer of that than of the beating of her own heart. Her longing to see someone she was certain loved her made her chest ache.
Even if Albus would allow her to leave her room, she wondered if she’d be brave enough to slip into the chapel, pry up the flooring under the altar, and steal out through the secret entrance to Caisteal Dubh all alone.
Hamish was right. The only way to resolve this crisis short of bloodshed was for her to leave.
Which was why Rob put her under guard, she realized. Just in case she should decide to flee. He wanted the coming fight, and he wouldn’t be denied. There wasn’t a pinch of forgiveness in him.
“Ye bloody-minded man,” she muttered.
She looked into the bailey at the cobbles far below. Her belly clenched at the sheer drop. Fiona MacLaren had willingly taken just such a long fall, never knowing what her action would set in motion.
What misery drove her to that awful choice? Elspeth wondered if Fiona repented that last step as she fell to her death. Did she cry out for mercy as the ground rose to meet her? Or did she fly into eternity with her lips closed and her eyes wide open?
Elspeth’s heart pounded. She wouldn’t make the same choice. She may have behaved stupidly with Robin MacLaren, but she’d not compound the pain for her parents by adding to their grief. She stepped back from the window and closed the wooden shutters tight, blocking out the night.
Maybe Fiona thought taking her own life was the only way to prove Lachlan Drummond had raped her. Or maybe she couldn’t bear to live with the memories of what had happened to her. Or had she gone mad and was incapable of choice?
There was no way to know what had buzzed in her brain at the last. Perhaps that was why Rob was so obsessed with avenging her. He didn’t know why. Could never know why.
And killing Drummond seemed the only way to still his wife’s ghost.
Her head ached. She wondered if that meant she was about to be visited by her Gift or if she was just tired of thinking so hard.
She padded to the big bed, drew back the coverlet, and climbed in. The linens were icy, and there was no one to place heated stones at her feet. She might ask for whatever she pleased, Rob had said, but not if she was no better than a prisoner.
She curled into a tight ball and covered her head, trying to warm the space with her own breath. Between breaths, she heard a soft scraping sound, like stone moving on stone. She peered over the top of the coverlet to see the tapestry on the wall opposite her bed bulge out. The corner lifted, and a figure stepped from behind it, exposing a dark opening in the stone itself.
Her breath hissed over her teeth.
“Hush, leannán,” came a whisper. “’Tis only me.”
She sat upright. “Rob?”
“Who else were ye expecting, lass?” he whispered back. Rob walked toward the bed, peeling off his plaid as he came. “I wasn’t sure the doorway from the laird’s chamber to this one still worked. It hasna been tried since my father’s time, ye ken, but the workmanship was solid, and the lever still moved the stone.”
“What are ye doing here?” She lay back down and pulled the covers up to her nose.
His smile flashed white even in the dim light of the braziers. “That should be obvious.” He pulled off his boots and stockings, unbelted his kilt, and let it drop to the floor. He stood by the side of her bed in just his thigh-length shirt with his hands fisted on his waist. “I’m come to bed my beloved.”
“No,” she hissed, mindful of Albus outside her door.
He frowned down at her. “What d’ye mean ‘no’?”
“I mean unless ye intend to tie me down, there’ll be no bedding, my lord.”
“That sounds like a good game. We’ll use the cords holding back the bed curtains, aye?” He pulled down the coverlet and climbed in with her. “Ye surprise me, lass. I didna think ye were so adventurous.”
“D’ye want me to scream?” she asked, shocked that he didn’t seem the least deterred.
“Only if the pleasure is so great ye canna contain yourself,” he said, reaching to pull her close. “But I think we might want to be more discreet than that if we can.”
She straight-armed him. “Rob, no.”
“Ye’re serious?”
“As a three-day toothache.”
He raised up, sending cold air spilling under the blankets, and looked down at her. “What’s wrong?”
“How can ye ask me that?” She wanted to leap out of bed and pace the room, but it was too cold, and his body had brought much-needed warmth to the sheets before he sat back up. Even now, he generated more heat than both the smoking braziers. “Ye sent me up here alone.”
“No, I didna. Albus lit your way.”
“Ye know what I mean.”
“D’ye think it would have been better for your reputation if I’d escorted ye to your chamber?”
Irritation fizzed in her belly. She hated it when he was right. “Ye set a guard over me while ye make merry in your Great Hall with the people who hate me—”
“No one hates ye.” He lay back down and pulled the coverlet over both of them up to their chins.
“Ye dinna wish to see the truth, then.” She turned and gave him her back. “Your people blame me for the trouble outside the gates. No one wants me here.”
His hand was heavy on her shoulder, warm and reassuring. “I want ye here.”
“As your prisoner,” she said, refusing to be comforted.
“No, love.”
He stroked her from the tip of her shoulder to the nape of her neck. She fought against the shiver of delight that danced in the wake of his hand.
“Ye are guarded for your own protection,” he said.
“As a man protects his hostage, then.” She edged away from him, but not too far. He was so warm. “Ye intend to use me so ye can draw Drummond into single combat. So ye can have your bloody revenge.”
He snorted like a stallion. “Aye, that’s how it began. I’ll no’ deny it.” Then she felt him shift toward her, and his next words were whispered directly into her ear. “But everything’s changed now.”
He planted a string of baby kisses along her neck and suckled her earlobe. Her body rioted in pleasure.
“Aye, ye’re certainly changed,” she said, tamping down her reaction to him. “So polite. So correct, ye are. So reserved to me before your people. I hardly recognize ye.”
“But I recognize ye. And every time I see ye, I ache to hold ye, Elspeth. I want to sling ye over my shoulder and carry ye off again, with a hand up your skirt fondling yer sweet arse as I go,” he said huskily, suiting his actions to his words. “But if I dinna treat ye with distant courtesy before others, how would that look, ye think?”
As if we’d become lovers during the course of our journey, she answered him silently. Her bottom warmed under his touch, but she resisted admitting he was probably wise to restrain himself in public.
“I thought ye’d appreciate that I was having a care for your good name,” he said.
He continued to stroke her buttocks, pulling up the thin chemise as he did so, till he touched her bare skin. He circled each globe of her bottom then reached between her legs to cup her sex in his palm. Elspeth bit her lip to keep from making a noise of pleasure, but she knew he could tell her body had roused to him. She was moist and warm and swollen, aching for his touch.
“But if ye dinna care one way or the other,” he said as he nuzzled her neck, “I’ll swive ye on the main table in the Great Hall on the morrow before God and everybody, instead of breaking my fast.”
“Ye willna.” She wiggled out of his grasp, rolled over, and faced him. He wrapped his arms around her, and she felt his belly jiggle with a suppressed chuckle.
“No, lass, I willna.” He claimed her lips with a quick kiss. “But not for lack of wanting to. Only because I couldna bear for anyone else to see ye in the glorious altogether. That’s a delight for me alone.”
Against her better judgment, a smile curved her lips. “Ye’ll no’ be seeing much of me now. ’Tis too cold to go about naked.”
“Then I’ll have to warm ye,” he said, pulling the covers over both their heads. Then he climbed atop her, settling between her legs before she even realized she’d spread them. “Skin against skin is the best thing for warming a body.”
“Is it now?”
“Aye, let me show ye.” He pulled off his shirt and flipped the blankets back long enough to give it a toss to the floor. There was enough light for Elspeth to catch sight of his handsome face, lit with lust and the promise of fevered lovemaking. Then he covered them again, throwing them into almost total darkness.
“I canna see for ye to show me anything,” she said.
“Can ye no’? I’m fair cat-eyed in the dark myself,” he said. “For instance, I can see to untie your chemise right enough.”
She felt his fingers working the drawstring knot above her breasts. After it gave, he spread the neck of her bodice wide.
“And I can see your beautiful breasts.” He kissed his way down to an aching nipple.
She couldn’t suppress the urge to arch herself into his mouth.
“And if sight fails me,” he said as he kissed along the valley between her breasts to claim the other one, “my mouth and hands seem to be able to find their way around ye just fine without my eyes to guide them.”
He demonstrated his ability by rucking the chemise up and pulling it over her head before she hardly knew that was his aim. Then he settled again, and his warmth and hard maleness chased away her chills. His lips found hers for a long, deep kiss.
“Oh, Rob,” she said when she finally came up for air, “ye make it so hard to think.”
“Good, I dinna want ye to think.” He smoothed her hair back, kissing her temples, her cheeks, her closed eyes.
“But—”
He covered her lips with a finger. “I only want ye to feel.”
He trailed his hand down from her mouth, skimming his fingertips over her chin, her throat. He teased her breasts; then he slid off her so he could continue his journey past her ribs to circle her navel in slow strokes.
“And when we’re done feeling?” she asked with a hitch in her voice. It was hard to think past the next time his fingers left her belly to tease the curling hairs at the juncture of her thighs. “Then what?”
“Dinna fret, lass. I have a plan for us.”
He stayed to dally in her damp curls, dividing, lifting, stroking each dewy crevice. Her breath shuddered.
“Trust me,” he said softly. “’Twill be all right, ye’ll see.”
“What…?” She tilted herself into his hand’s exploration. Sparks of pleasure licked her. “What d’ye wish me to do?”
“Beg,” he whispered. “I wish ye to beg, love.”