DevilsHeart (5 page)

But there was something about her. Each time he looked into
her eyes he sensed an inexplicable kinship, which was odd since she seemed to
be his exact opposite. He was forthright, spontaneous, and confident. She was
timid, guarded, and vulnerable. It was that vulnerability which drew him now,
coaxing him to find her. The woman tugged at something unfamiliar, deep within
him, that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

He wove his way through the crowd toward the staircase. All
he needed was to assure himself Leah was all right and no worse for the wear.

“Rathe!” David called from off to the side.

Rathe stopped just shy of the staircase and turned to find the
mormaer among another group of men.

“Everything all right?” David asked as Rathe approached.

Rathe shrugged. “Why?”

“Nothing. You just seemed distracted,” David replied,
crooking his finger at Rathe to indicate he was to join him. “Come, I want your
opinion on the MacDonald. It seems he is bent on making trouble along the coast
just south of your land.”

Rathe was careful to hide his annoyance as he joined David,
who was surrounded by three older lairds with whom Rathe was all too familiar.
Rathe crossed his arms, only half listening to the debate. Same old complaints,
just a different day. The truth was he was little concerned about the
MacDonald, since the two had spent some time together as youths and understood
one another well. He was considered ruthless and calculating by some, but so
was Rathe. Neither held a single dishonorable bone in his body, however,
despite both embracing mercilessness whenever necessary.

No, Rathe had no problem being called the Satan of the
Highlands. In fact, he relished the nickname. He had earned it. And now when
people called him a bastard, it was because of his cutthroat reputation instead
of his unfortunate parentage.

“Well, Rathe?” David prompted. “Do we need to intervene?”

Rathe shook his head. “The MacDonald does not make trouble
for sport. There is no need to concern ourselves just yet.”

David nodded, stroking his closely cropped beard. “I trust
the Sinclair’s judgment on this.”

Two men in the group grumbled in protest, but Rathe ignored
them and excused himself from the mormaer’s presence. Passing by the main
staircase, he slipped around several men toward an open doorway. It led to a
hallway to one of the back staircases the servants usually used.

The dimly lit corridor was empty when he entered. Shadows
from lit torches danced on the stone walls in front of him. He stared up the
narrow staircase. Was he was really daft enough to attempt to find Leah in the
maze of rooms above?

More importantly, should he be trusted with her if he did
find her?

He paused. He’d never once considered whether or not it was
right for him to be alone with a woman. He simply did what he wanted. As long
as the lady in question was willing, why should he not?

This woman had muddled his thinking. He shook his head and
ascended the stairs.

Leah gripped the railing. The smoothness of the well-worn
wood comforted her as she stared down the darkened stairs while mulling over
her hasty plan. The stable boys kept cloaks on the hooks in the stables for
when it rained, so that would be easy enough to grab. There was always some
sort of hard cheese and brown bread in the kitchen. Not to mention knives. She
would need one for protection at least, if David’s talk of roving bands of
outcast men was to be trusted and not just some ploy to encourage her to stay
within the confines of the castle walls.

Her jaw tensed. It should be easy enough to slip past guards
and servants without anyone being the wiser since almost everyone was busy
partying in the great hall below, right? Sure, she possessed only a vague
notion of the direction from which they had traveled from Graham land. But
desperation pressed her onward. Her family would be worried sick by now and the
last thing she needed was to get trapped in a marriage with some chauvinistic,
thirteenth-century man. Why the hell had the mormaer done this anyway?

She relaxed her hold on the railing and picked up her skirts
with her other hand and she descended down the narrow, winding staircase. Her
head swam and she paused. The whisky Alpina had poured her earlier was kicking
in full force. Alpina had insisted it would calm her down after hearing about
David’s plans to marry her off. Leah had had to fight past the burning
sensation in her throat as she had swallowed the golden liquid, but for some
stupid reason didn’t stop Alpina from pouring more. Not wanting to draw too
much attention by refusing, Leah had finished that cup too.

A solid mass smacked into her. She gasped, her head snapping
upward.

Rathe.

She froze. She seriously had to start watching where she was
going.

He chuckled, the deep timbre of his tone delighting her.
Leah’s stomach flipped from apprehension to a warm jelly. Damn it. She dropped
her gaze to Rathe’s chest, sending a silent plea to her feet to step away.

The heat of his stare burned into the top of her head and an
odd twinge of disappointment filled her at the thought of not ever having the
opportunity to experience at least one night with him. He was a man who could
have played a prominent role in her fantasies back home. Tall, muscular, oozing
a dark, magnetic sensuality. Her sister would kill her if she ever knew she’d
had a chance like this and had blown it.

“What is it?” he asked, his voice low. “What is the matter?”

She lifted her eyes back up to his in surprise over his
concerned tone. “Nothing,” she whispered with a shake of her head as she
attempted to skirt him.

He grabbed her waist, holding her steady. “Do not lie to me.
I saw you speaking with the mormaer.”

“It was nothing.” She wrapped her fingers around his,
attempting to pry his hands away.

“Tell me. Perhaps I can be of some assistance.”

The brilliant green of his eyes glimmered in the torchlight.
She parted her lips. Maybe he would be willing to escort her back to the loch
near Fannich to search for the pendant.

No, it would be too much to ask. She pressed her lips
together and gave up trying to pry his hands away, instead she pushed in vain
against his chest.

His fingertips dug into her waist. “Tell me what happened.”

His tone was commanding, but there was something soft and
compelling just beneath the surface. “The mormaer is forcing me to marry.”

Rathe’s brows drew together. “Who?”

She shrugged, tears forming in her eyes. “I don’t remember.
Some Highland laird.”

“But why are you upset? I am certain the mormaer would have
made you an excellent match.”

Thanks to the freeing effects of the whisky, Leah snorted
and rolled her eyes. Alpina had used those exact same words. Not that it
mattered anyway, since she wanted nothing to do with marriage for a good long
while. Especially when it involved some medieval guy she had never met.

“I don’t care. I don’t want to be married to anyone.”

A cockeyed, boyish grin played across his face. “Well, that
is one thing we have in common.”

A smile pulled at her lips, but then faded as Alpina’s voice
echoed through her head, accusing him of murdering his wives.

She should get the truth from him and not rely on rumors
spoken by someone who clearly disliked him. If nothing else, it would serve her
fantasies better as she sat in front of the television alone, eating a bowl of
Ben and Jerry’s Chubby Hubby. “You’ve been married before.”

He nodded and tilted his head as he stared at her.

His silence just encouraged her nervousness to filter
through the confidence of her whisky haze. What was she thinking? This man was
strong enough to kill her right now with his bare hands and there would be
little she could do to stop him. She should scream or something, shouldn’t she?
Anything to get him to release her so she could get as far away from him as
possible.

He relaxed his grip on her waist and drew the pads of his
thumbs back and forth along her stomach. Pleasing shivers rippled through her
flesh. He couldn’t be so bad, right? He had saved her from injury when she’d
walked into the middle of a sword demonstration after all.

“I know that Barclay woman has been bending your ear,” he
murmured.

The constant drone of conversations and music funneling up
the stairs fell away as his breathing filling her ears. His heart beat in a
steady, comforting rhythm beneath her fingertips. He couldn’t possibly be the
type of man who killed wives for not giving him sons, could he? It wasn’t like
he was Henry VIII or anything.

Hold on. Could she seriously trust her judgment of his
character when every time he so much as smiled at her, her insides melted?

Her chest tightened in apprehension but she forced the words
out. “Did you kill your wives?”

“My first wife died in childbirth. My second thought living
her life with me rather than another was not worth it.”

“But you didn’t—”

“I have never laid a hand on a woman in anger.” His eyes
glowered with annoyance for a second before he relaxed into a soft, charming
smile as though she hadn’t just asked him if he was a murderer. “Are you
satisfied, lass?”

Maybe she could ask him to help her after all. “I have a
favor to ask of you.”

“Anything.”

Heat emanated from him, seeping into her. Her skin flushed
as a deep ache spread between her thighs. She drew toward him but then stopped
when the barest slip of air still separated them.

She shook her head. No she had to concentrate. “Will you
take me back to Graham land? I need to get home. My family will be worried
sick.”

Rathe’s lips parted as his face fell. “You are a Graham? You
told me you were a Gunn.”

“I am a Gunn. It’s just that something weird happened and I
ended up on Graham land where the mormaer found me.” The mormaer had her scared
half out of her mind someone would accuse her of witchcraft if they knew what
had really happened to her. Just how many details she should reveal to this
man? “The mormaer won’t take me back, but I need to find my way home now before
he marries me off and sends me away. I may never have this chance again.”

The arrested expression on his face sent her heart into a
downward spiral of despair. He was going to deny her request. She dropped her
eyes to his chest, blinking back the tears filling her eyes.

“Ah, lass. That is the one thing I cannot do. I cannot go
against my overlord.”

Her spine stiffened. It didn’t matter. She would find her
own way home. “Then I will go myself.”

His fingertips sank into her waist again and his arms
tightened, holding her captive. “I cannot allow that.”

“Please, let me go.”

“You would not survive the night, lass. If the cold did not
get you, then a wolf or a group of highwaymen would. I would be sending you to
your death were I to let you go.”

One hot tear fell onto her cheek as her shoulders slumped in
defeat. Damn it, he was right. Even if she was familiar with the route and
could move fast, she might not avoid the notice of wild animals or highwaymen.
Besides, what would she do if she got back to the site of the cabin and the
pendant was gone? And even if she did find it, would it even work?

“I have a knife,” she mumbled.

He cupped her cheek with one of his massive hands. The
roughened pad of his thumb whisked away the tear that had fallen.

She resisted the urge to sink into his touch. A reassuring
strength radiated from his eyes.

Now what was she supposed to do? Play the dutiful medieval
maiden and marry this stranger David had picked out? Her stomach churned.

“What if this husband doesn’t like me? What if I don’t like
him?”

He chuckled. “You may come to like each other in time.”

“What if he’s controlling or selfish? What if he’s cruel?”

He smoothed his fingers back along her cheek and into her
hair. Her flesh tingled. “You are going to worry yourself sick, lass. There is
no need—”

“What if he hits me? What if—”

His hand curled around her neck and he squeezed it. “Then
you send word to me. You hear? I will not abide a woman being abused in such a
manner.”

What? Didn’t all medieval men think women were the simple
property of their husbands to do with what they chose? “You would come for me?”

His eyes brimmed with conflict. “I am a fool for saying so,
but I swear on my life I would come for you. You need only to say the word.”

Her lips parted in bewilderment, her knees weakening. “But
you cannot help me get out of this marriage?”

“Unless I can find a legitimate objection other than your
reluctance, I cannot question the mormaer. You saved his son, remember. He
would not marry you off to someone he knows will treat you poorly.”

She bit her lower lip, her heart numbing in defeat.

Rathe pressed his forehead to hers, sending a wave of warmth
through her limbs to her belly as though breathing life back into her. “I am
sorry, lass.”

She slipped her arms around his neck and leaned into him,
desperate for comfort even if it was from a complete stranger. His woodsy,
masculine scent surrounded her. The warm solidity of his body arousing. A new,
thrilling sense of life swirled through her. Her vision sharpened in the dim
light and her skin heated beneath his. Her pulse quickened and her skin
thrummed as a warm, moist ache formed between her thighs.

Could she really do this? Could she really be bold enough to
risk the regret and allow lust to consume her with a handsome stranger? This
might be her only chance to do something so wild. What did she have to lose
anyway? One way or another, she was going to get the pendant back and go home.
They might never cross paths again.

“My hip still hurts a little.”

He lifted his head from hers and studied her face.

Just as her confidence wilted, he cleared his throat and
whispered, “Would you like me to take a look at it? Just to be sure you are not
seriously injured.”

A mixture of apprehension and anticipation swelled within
her belly. “Of course. To be on the safe side.”

His gaze dropped to her mouth. “Naturally.”

Leah’s tongue darted out to lick her lips as she fought the
urge to run. He grinned and recaptured her eyes, rendering them immobile. Being
one step above him, she was almost at his eye level and could not indulge her
shyness by curling into him to hide.

His warm lips skipped across her cheek. “Have you not been
with a man?”

Emboldened by the lack of eye contact, she closed her eyes
and pressed her lips against his jaw. Light stubble tickled her skin and she
took a long, deep breath, reveling in the earthy scent of him.

“Leah.” His lips drifted along her neck, searing her skin.

She leaned into his chest, giving him her full weight. His
large palms slipped down her backside, cupping it as he pulled her hips against
him.

“I am not in the habit of taking virgins. Especially not
right before they are to be married to another.”

Her cheeks heated and she was more than grateful for the dim
light. She couldn’t blame him for assuming she was a virgin since she was
acting so skittish. “I’m not a virgin.”

His chest deflated with a heavy sigh of relief. “Thank God.”

His lips smothered hers as she threaded her fingers through
his hair. She welcomed his tongue into her mouth, amazed by its sweetness, and
stroked it with her own. He growled and her body flushed with an awakened,
raging desire. Her nipples peaked beneath her leine, sending sharp, exquisite
jolts to her core as she shifted, opening her mouth wider.

Rathe flexed his fingers, digging them into the soft flesh
of her buttocks as he pressed his stiffening cock into the softness of her
abdomen. Her toes curled as a wicked thrill of anticipation shuddered through
her.

An older, feminine voice echoed up the narrow stairway just
behind Rathe. He tore his lips away from Leah’s, wrenching a small gasp from
her throat, and drew her against the wall. He threw a low, throaty Gaelic
phrase over his shoulder, which was met with a derisive snort from the older
servant woman as she passed them on the way up the stairs.

Leah buried her face in the crook of Rathe’s neck, her heart
pounding in mortification. He remained motionless until the woman’s footfalls
faded into the corridor above.

Chuckling, he pressed his lips to the top of her head in a
reassuring kiss. “I believe she is gone.”

She shook her head as humiliation weighed down her
shoulders. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be doing this. I don’t even know you.”

He pried her face away and coaxed her chin up with the back
of his index finger. “But you want me. And I have a fierce need for you, lass.
I can only pray your husband will live nowhere near me, otherwise I fear I may
not be able to stay away from you.”