Charming the Chieftain (17 page)

“Someone please fetch Ronan a cup of spirits.”

She waited for him to down the contents and threaded the needle with waxed silk.

“I shall require quite a bit of light for the stitching.”

Although the comment had been directed to no one in particular, suddenly the table was illuminated by candle after candle. She chose one closest to her, passed the needle through the flame and set to her chore. The shadows grew longer in the room and her legs began to cramp. She stumbled backwards only to be shored up by numerous hands firm on her back. At some point, a stool was shoved under her knees and she finished the intricate stitches. A jaw-cracking yawn took her unawares. She passed a weary hand over her gritty eyes and heaved herself up from the seat. She didn’t relish the inevitable expressions of horror when she chanted, but if she wanted Ronan’s arm to heal, she had to do what she must.

“Please bow your head,” she directed and plucked three bramble leaves from her satchel and swabbed his arm.

“I call upon three angels of the east, north and west. Heal yon warrior while he takes his rest. Seam the wound and heal the skin to ward of infection from within.”

Finished, she kept he head down ready to push through the crowd again. With a heavy sigh, she slowly turned and noticed a distinct path before her. She looked around at the smiling faces in surprise.

“Good work, milady,” a man complimented.

“Beautiful stitchery,” another commented, when a young soldier touched her arm and whispered. “Would you have a charmed balm for saddle rash?”

A bit thrown, it took her a moment to respond. “Yes, I do. Come to me on the morrow and I shall have it ready for you.”

Waylaid by six more people with complaints, the crowd eventually dispersed and she noticed Aeden with a tender expression on his face awaiting her at the bottom of the stairwell. Touched by his show of loyalty, they made their way to their private chamber in companionable silence. Exhausted, she leaned heavily against his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her waist and they arrived at the solid oak door. She went in first and when he didn’t follow, she pivoted to face him.

“You’re not coming in?” She made no secret of her disappointment.

He traced a thumb over her brow. “I will no’ be long. I need a word with Ian.”

Shy, it took her a moment to say, “Shall I await your return?”

In answer he pulled her to him and captured her lips in a promise of things to come.

• • •

The aroma of valerian wafted on the air. Elisande wanted their evening to be unforgettable. Having decided on a course of action, she hurried to the small storeroom at the end of the corridor. Inside, the potent scent of cloves, rosemary, and beeswax spiced the air. Stalks of fresh rushes were bundled and stacked tapers in rows of ten lined a corner shelf. Lavender, mint, chamomile, and lemon verbena hung on drying thongs from the ceiling near the large half-moon window. Chunks of peat spilled from weathered sacks and fresh laundered plaids were folded in an open chest.

She gathered what she needed, well pleased with her treasures. Absorbed in her task, she jumped at the sharp crack in the wood floor outside the storage room entry. She swung her head around in time to notice a shadow cast across the threshold. “No one should be in the family wing at this hour,” she murmured in annoyance. “Breanna?”

Why the chamber servant would be above stairs at this late hour perplexed her.
Perhaps
, she thought,
she conveys a message from Aeden.

“Do you have a message?”

The shadow receded though no one answered. She rolled her eyes. “Come in. I promise I am not talking to specters.”

Exasperated by the person’s timidity, she hitched the bundle in her arms and rounded the corner.

“For heaven’s sake there is no need to — oomph.”

She collided into Addis and her armload of stores tumbled to the floor. Flustered, she stooped to retrieve her items.

“Please forgive me, I had not realized you were so close.”

A shiver of apprehension raised the hair on the nape of her neck as she straightened. She reversed a few steps and put space between them.

Addis moved forward until she ended up backed against the wall. He crowded her and fixed her with a malicious stare.

“I heard you practiced your witchery up here.”

“Witchery. What an absurd notion.”

Despite her tenuous position, the accusation brought her anger to the fore and she challenged his presence.

“Just what are you doing on this floor? Are you not quartered below stairs with the rest of the garrison?”

“Shut your mouth.” Before she could scream, he brought his forearm to her throat.

His menacing demeanor started a panic within her.

“You had best leave afore Aeden discovers you.” Her tremulous voice betrayed her fear.

“Do not speak that whoreson’s name to me,” he spat shoving into her.

Frightened, she fought to regain control over the situation. “Remove your arm this instant,” she demanded.

He smiled. She tried a different tact. “If you do not let me go I shall scream and then you shall have to explain your actions to your chief.”

“No one will hear you.”

He spoke true. With the evening’s revelry under way, not much would be heard over the noise. The realization started a rolling motion in the pit of her stomach. She made one last desperate attempt to reason with him.

“Unhand me, and I will not say a word to Aeden.”

“I think not. We will see in what esteem my brother holds you when he discovers you have lain with another,” he threatened.

With a quickness belying his bulk he knocked her off her feet, dragged her down the hall and propelled her into a dimly lit alcove. The weak light cast his face into shadow.

She found her voice. “Aeden would never believe I willingly allowed you to bed me.”

“Have you not yet understood that you are an insignificant pawn in his game? You believe my brother to be a good and honorable man. He is neither of those things. He will do whatever he must in order to take vengeance upon me.”

Fear swept through her. The maniacal look in his eyes convinced her he would do her harm despite her pleas. She stood frozen in place.

“Now, I take from him.”

Desperate, she tried to make him see the inconsistencies of his ill-logic. “If I am naught except a pawn what makes you believe he will care enough to retaliate?”

“He’ll care because he owns you, you stupid slut.”

The wet slide of his tongue made a trail from her cheek to the top of her breast. She shrunk back, sickened by his touch.

Addis gripped a handful of hair and forced her head back taking enjoyment from her gasp of pain. He thrust her hard against the wall and clawed at her clothes. A scream bubbled up in her throat and she beat at his hands as he groped a path down her body.

“You were made to have a man betwixt your legs,” he taunted. “When I’m through plowing your belly you won’t think of my brother.”

She listened to Addis spew his filth as he violated areas of her body once caressed in desire by Aeden. The thought that he erased precious memories to be replaced by his vile actions rekindled her will to fight. Her renewed struggles to buck him off of her only increased his arousal.

Addis’s considerable weight pinned her to the wall while his hand burrowed beneath the folds of her plaid. He ground his mouth against hers in an attempt to pry her lips open. After another brief struggle, she pretended compliance and opened them a fraction. She waited until his tongue slithered between her lips past her teeth and then clamped down on his tongue. The metallic flavor of blood flooded her mouth. He thrust two fingers into his mouth to survey the damage and she seized her chance rammed her knee into his groin and lunged sideways when he doubled over and crumpled to the floor.

Clutching her torn plaid, she dashed to her bedchamber slammed the door and banged the heavy bolt work in place. Her stomach lurched and she barely made it to the chamber pot before ridding her stomach of its contents. She rinsed her mouth with a bit of water left in the ewer, then poured herself a cup of spirits from the corked jug on the table and drained the drink in one swallow. Shattered, she wrung out a face cloth in the wash bin laid down on the bed and placed the cool linen across her forehead.

Manic thoughts raced through her mind. Words she should never lend credence to, but couldn’t help worrying over. She knew the Scot’s notion of justice and revenge were foremost in their minds, but could the man who had initiated her into passion with such tender caring tie himself to an Englishwoman in order to gain vengeance?

No. She chose not to believe Aeden capable of such treachery. He may not love her, yet, she knew enough of his honorable nature to know he could never willfully hurt her. She inhaled a deep cleansing breath and allowed the peaceful atmosphere of the room to calm the tangle of self-doubts. Aeden should be made aware of his brother’s abuse, but she did not relish being the cause of more upheaval in his household. After all, she managed to escape Addis’s unwanted attentions. She never considered herself weak and unlike most women, she never knew the luxury of depending on a strong man to fight her battles. She rubbed a hand over her eyes. Aeden would defend her of that she had no doubts. Still, she discerned Addis’s violence stemmed from something other than an upset over Aeden’s marriage to her and she did not want to add more ill-will to the volatile situation.

Restless, she rose from the bed armed with resolve and left their bedchamber in search of her husband. As she made her way toward Aeden, she was surprised by the amount of people who greeted her. She smiled in return and their genuine warmth almost erased the terrible reason she sought her husband. Too late, she realized her reappearance in the great room would only raise Aeden’s suspicions. She should have awaited him in their bedchamber to ensure privacy. The decision was out of her hands the instant Aeden had honed in on her presence. She stood in the entryway, uncertain if she should interrupt him. He dismissed the men and beckoned her over.

“There is a large tear in your sleeve, why?”

She stared at the gaping hole exposing her wrist. At a loss for words, she slid her arm behind her.

He stood with his feet shoulder’s width apart, hands clasped behind his back, as a muscle ticked along his jawline. The silence stretched between them.

“I am flattered something so trivial upon my person excites your notice. I do believe you are not aware of my presence on most occasions,” she teased, desperate to redirect his attention.

His light eyes bathed her in frank admiration, which started the heat to spread from her chest to her cheeks.

He pursed his lips. “Make no mistake. I notice all about you.”

Then, just as quick, Aeden’s humor faded. “Now, tell me what happened to your sleeve.”

She placed her hands on her hips. “I have dressed to my station in your household and — ”

“Our household,” he corrected. “Explain the tear.”

Her eyes darted around the room in frustration. She did not want to lie and now she wasn’t so certain she should reveal the truth. In the end, she told a half-truth.

“I had gathered a few items for our bedchamber from the family stores and caught the ruffle. When you had been so long in returning I decided to speak with my aunt.”

He studied her face.

“You are pale. Are you sickening?”

The concern in his voice warmed her and softened her tone.

“I am fine truly.”

“Then you must know Onora is abed by this hour.”

She hadn’t thought of that. She shrugged. “The hour had not occurred to me.”

His eyes narrowed and she knew her explanation left him with more questions than answers. Thankfully, he didn’t press her.

He smoothed a knuckle down her cheek. “Leave it to the servants next time.”

She released a slow breath. “Yes, I believe I shall.”

“Why did you not return to our chamber?”

He rubbed his eyes a wry smile on his lips. “In my concern over Ronan, I forgot a messenger awaited my attention.”

She laughed. “He has been waiting all this time?”

“Aye,” he shook his head, a full grin broadening his smile. “The servants pacified him with a hearty meal.”

“Hmm, it wasn’t grave, I hope.”

She didn’t want him to leave Maxwell land while the threat of Addis loomed over her head.

“No’ grievous, although, I am to away at dawn.”

Disappointed, she moved closer to him drawn in by the firm set of his jaw and the banked desire in his blue eyes. Ever so gently, she laid her hand over his scarred cheek. He tensed, his expression wary, yet, he didn’t draw back. Encouraged, she stroked the tips of her fingers over the tough, puckered mass. He winced, but then she ran her thumb repeatedly over the scars and he slowly closed his eyes leaned into her hand and savored her touch. The world around them dropped away.

“I shall miss you.”

The declaration spilled from her lips before she guarded her words.

His eyes opened and he peered into her eyes.

“Will you, now?”

The uncertainty in his voice tugged at her heart. “Verily, husband.”

Just as insecure of his answer, her voice trembled. “Shall you miss me?”

“Aye.” His eyes were unfathomable and the one word her uttered was low, forceful.

Aware of the audience they attracted he drew back and she let her hand fall to her side.

“Your pardon,” Fergal interrupted.

Aeden shifted his attention to the soldier.

“All is ready for the morrow.”

“Good. Take Ian and liberate a barrel of Tam’s home brew.”

Fergal snorted. “It’ll take more than the two of us if we plan to succeed.”

Elisande and Aeden shared a chuckle as they watched the redhaired warrior move across the room with a purposeful stride.

“How many men ride with you?”

“A fair number to include my brother.”

Elisande’s eyes widened. “Your brother accompanies you on the morrow?”

She tried to sound casual and knew she failed miserably.

Aeden’s gaze sharpened. “Aye. You’ll no’ have to suffer his company again.”