Claiming the Highlander (15 page)

She notched up her chin. “I will do nothing to help or harm. That is all I can give you.”

“I do not need any more than that.” He turned his back on her.

* * * *

Alastronia glanced about, searching for an escape or a distraction, as Manus rode up. He pulled up and leapt off his horse. She gave her condolences. “He was a good mon.”

He hugged her, holding on longer than necessary. She kept her head away from his, straight and stiff and her arms at her side. She couldn’t step back when that was all she wished to do. It was cruel.

He planted his lips on her cheek so near to her mouth. She turned her head. Her arm twitched to wipe her mouth. The small patch of skin itched and burned. She couldn’t wipe her face.

“Alastronia, I promise we shall wed. I can give you a better life than this. I shall be chieftain of one of the septs, probably the one in the north, since my uncle has gotten on in years.”

She gave him a tight smile to appease him. His dark eyes reflected the sunlight. To her, it seemed as if the light came from within him. Her neighbors were so pleased for her. Her father walked about with pride. Alastronia sank deeper with each day or word given.

“I have come for something else as well.” Manus intertwined his fingers with hers. “I need your help.”

“If I can,” she replied without much feeling.

“The Grants. I have talked to others but I wish to hear what you have to say. Oran spends a great deal of attention on you.”

“He is a good mon. He does his work.”

“They don’t have much interaction with the clan.”

“The clan doesna either.”

“You sound as if you are defending him.”

“I dinna like the persecution of people wen they ha’e dun naught wrong.”

“You have a good heart.” He ran his hand over her head, brushing back the strands that had broken free from her braid. “What about the others?”

She started to shrug. “Actually, I saw one of them ride out this morn.”

“Who?”

“I dinna know. I had seen him around but ne’er spoke to him.”

“Which way did he head?” He scanned the landscape.

“Toward Grant lands,” she answered.

Manus gazed in that direction as if he could see the man even now. She turned her regard toward Oran’s home. She knew she said the wrong thing and life for Oran would become difficult. She had to warn him.

“I shall return later. Be waiting for me,” he said.

She watched as he rode away in the same direction she planned to travel when he should have headed the opposite way. After lingering a few moments, she set off toward the fields. Her skirts stirred the flowers’ fragrance as she hurried along. She had to return before her father or Manus appeared. At least, she knew she wouldn’t come across Manus. He would travel along the lower path as he always did. Manus had never been a cruel man, yet she hadn’t known what he could do. He regarded her as his and held a dislike for Oran. That made him dangerous. She came to the small cairn and knew she was near.

Oran worked outdoors along with two men, building another cottar. Oran spotted her. He spoke to the men, and then closed the distance between them.

“I hadna thought ye wad come ’ere.”

Why did this man make her feel like a bird soaring above the mountains? If only Manus did that instead of filling her with disgust that grew with each visit.

“I must warn ye. Trable is brewing fae ye. Please be careful.” She laid her hand on his forearm. She wished to hold him but she battled against her deepest desire. Her arms felt empty and heavy.

“I shall. This is because the laird has passed.” He scrubbed his hand down his face.

“Sadly, aye.” The heavy tone of her voice had him turning his sharp gaze on her.

“I will be careful.” The force of his words gave her a little solace.

“Oran, please promise me that if problems arise, ye will speak to his lordship. He can help. Why are ye smilin’?”

“I like the sound of my name on yer lips.”

This was not the time to smile, but she couldn’t halt it. “Stop. There are more pressin’ matters than that.”

“Alastronia, I must confess ye are the only brightness in my life.”

She bowed her head. He bent down and stared up at her.

“Ye are mine as well.”

“I vow to be the man ye need an’ give ye the life ye deserve. I canna give ye wat Manus can, but I can love ye.”

“That is all I desire. Be careful an’ promise to talk to his lordship.”

“I shall.”

“Good,” she said. “I ought to go.”

“I wod love to kiss ye right now.” His heated perusal stung her lips. She swore she felt his lips pressed to hers. “Can ye meet me tonight?”

“I wish ye kissed me, too. I will be waitin’.”

She knew the risk, taunting Manus and her father’s rage, but she didn’t care. She would be careful.

* * * *

Brenna awoke. Through the parted bed curtains, faint firelight cast eerie shadows across the floorboards. Rain struck the shutters. Caelen’s bedside was empty and cold. She tossed aside the bed linens and slipped her feet into her shoes. She wrapped a plaid around her shoulders. His plaid wasn’t draped on the hooks, nor was his leine balled up in a corner.

She lit the half-burned candle from the bedside and risked the darkened castle stairs. She headed to the hall. The light fell about his face. Caelen slumped in a chair before the
brier
. His head lolled to the side. His blond hair hung straight, revealing his defined features. His blond lashes rested against the dark shadows smeared beneath his eyes. His folded hands rested on his chest, and his legs were stretched out before him. His eyes were open, lacking the glossiness of sleep.

“You must come to bed.” She rested her hand on his shoulder.

He rubbed his hand down his face, slapped his hands on his knees, and rose. She stepped back. He took the candle from her. His hand bumped against her own, and then he intertwined their fingers. He gave her a squeeze as if he needed the comfort of her touch. He spared her not one glance, and she knew this was enough for him.

Once inside the chamber, he drew away and wandered across to the bed. The back of his knees pressed against it.

She went to him. A glaze dulled his gaze. She laid her hand over his heart. He blinked, surprised to see her. He tucked her hair behind her ears and stroked the lobe of her ear. She nuzzled against his palm. With the back of his hand, he brushed the length of her neck and along her shoulder, pushing the plaid down to drape around her elbow.

Not knowing what to do, she kissed him. It was a tender kiss to offer as comfort and give him all the love she had within her. The smack of his lips broke her heart. She felt a twist in her chest and knew it could be nothing else.

He gripped the plaid. The force of his hold pulled it down. It was as if he needed something to hold onto and she was it. She snaked her arms high about his chest. Her fingers splayed across his back, feeling the play of his muscles.

Caelen pulled away. He rested his forehead against her own. His breath fluttered across her face and through her hair. With no force, she lowered him to the bed. She knelt before him, unwrapped the leather strings, and pulled off his footwear. She rose. His eyes held her gaze. She reached out a shaky hand and freed the plaid from his brooch. The length puddled about his waist. She grasped handfuls of his leine and lifted it over his head. Light played over his chest, emphasizing the cuts of the honed muscles that pulled his skin taut. His round, pink nipples peeked out between the golden hairs.

He hadn’t moved. She strained to see if he still breathed. Should she pull away? In the stormy depths, he seemed to plead for her not to stop. Caelen clasped her hips. He pulled her down on the bed and tucked her to his side.

She ran her hand in mindless circles. He tucked two fingers under her chin and lifted her face. Her eyes shut. His open mouth fit over hers. She slipped her tongue inside, flooding her taste buds with wine. He nuzzled closer, as if needing to feel her touch. She let her hands rove along his side and up his chest. Her nails scraped his flesh.

She wrapped her legs about his and ran her toes along his calves. His body, so much hotter than her own, raised her temperature.

“I need you, tonight.” His low moan tore at her as his hand dug into her.

“I am here. I am always here.”

“You always have been. I…I haven’t.” He cringed. His eyes squeezed shut and he shook his head.

“You came.” She cupped his face. The sharp blades of his clenched jaw dug into her palms.

Lightning crashed, brandishing its white glow through the chamber. He brushed his nose against hers.

He caressed her. His touch was light, skimming down her chest. He halted just over her heart. She held her breath. He inched downward to her side and squeezed. She opened her soul to him. She shook not from the sweeping desire he stirred within her. Nay, this was her baring herself in a way that she had never with another soul.

The world shifted for her. Caelen lifted her gown. The worn linen brushed over her skin. She shifted her hips to help him. He tossed it aside, and then planted his hand on her stomach. There was a need in him, to feel her life…to feel his own, perhaps. With his fingertips, he traced her belly button. Her muscles constricted, her only movement. She couldn’t break this contact even as the hairs on his legs tickled the tender inside of her thighs as she cradled his body between her spread legs. Her nerve endings came alive. She just needed him within her. She lifted her hips.

He slid into her. Her body stretched as she welcomed him. His head dropped to her shoulder. His hot breath blasted over her, cooling her, but not for long. She spread her legs more as he pumped long, deep strokes.

“Look at me, Brenna.”

Her eyes flew open. He pushed her hair from her face. She couldn’t hide from him. From the inside outward, she coiled, twisting tighter so that she begged for release, yet yearned for the sensation to build. This couldn’t end. Tremors spread through her and she went boneless as the rest of her melted within his arms.

She felt him pump in to her with a roar that rumbled through her. He collapsed on top of her. She held him close, not ready to let him go.

Caelen belonged to her and she to him and no one could put them asunder.

* * * *

Caelen stood over her chest. The carved top of thistles and unicorns had softened from wear. He lifted the top, letting it bang against the wall. He dipped his hand inside where he had seen her hide the letter.

The wood’s grain grazed his palm. He moved to the middle. Then he felt parchment. He pulled it out. The seal was that of Laird Grant. He opened it and read the letter.

What word was she meant to have sent? She failed to secure his father’s assistance. What would the laird do now? What would Brenna do? He knew she wished for this union. That he couldn’t be wrong about. The truth slammed into him—he belonged to her. Last night, he felt connected to her. Even now, he still felt raw as if she had stripped away the reasoning he had hid behind. Did that mean he loved her?

“Caelen?” Brenna’s confused voice reached him. “What are you doing?” She peered around him to her opened chest. “Did you go through my belongings? Why do you have the message from my father?” Her face fell. “You think I am against you.”

He held out the letter to her.

She pushed it away. “Nay, keep it. Show it to all who can read.” She hunched over the chest and threw her garments from it. “You might have these as well.” She tossed aged missives at him. They bounced off his chest and head.

He reached out and caught one. He opened it. Her name was scrawled across the top. He scanned the letter before he started back at the top.

To my Brenna,

Life has fallen into routine. I have been appointed the commander of a group of men. The Laird sees great promise in me.

On it went, speaking of his time training and other duties he performed. He halted at the last paragraph.

Though, I still have time to be fostered here. I promise that you are never far from my daily thoughts and I look northward toward your home and wonder about you. I send my love to you and miss you greatly.

Until we can be together,

Caelen, your husband and love.

“I did not write this.” He waved it about.

She pushed his arm away. “Do you wish to hurt me more than you have?”

He looked back at the letter. “I am telling you the truth. I wouldn’t have written such nonsense.”

“That is what I am—nonsense? That is why you never came for me.”

“I couldn’t be a husband to you. I had other duties.”

“I am a duty. One that held no importance. I sound more of a burden than a wife.”

“Cease with twisting my words.”

She waved her arms as if blocking his words. “I have loved you since we were children. But you held nothing for me. Now you regard me as the enemy.”

“You are being foolish. I did not write these letters. Perhaps your father did, though I do not know how he knew such details about my life.”

“Those messages were delivered by a Mackenzie.”

“It could not be me. I was fostered in the MacLean household. The messenger would have been a MacLean.”

She drew away from him. It was foolish, but he swore she was further from him than the arm’s-length distance separating them. He hung his head. He cupped his forehead in his hand and ran it over his head. He darted a glance at her. She stood there. Her back was straight and her arms crossed as if to console herself. He started to speak but he only made a sound.

“Then who played this game?”

He didn’t voice the answer. His mother was the only one who could do such a thing. She had written him, telling him news of Brenna.