Highland Angel (11 page)

“Aye,” she finally managed to say. “Fither will be there, especially since he will feel betrayed by Roderick. He thought he was making such a grand match for me despite my small dowry. The bride price offered was tempting as weel, and, kenning that, Fither will feel guilty for nay looking at the mon too closely.”

Payton moved so that he was on top of her, nudging her legs apart with his, and settling himself between them. She felt perfect beneath him. He did not miss the lushness he had become accustomed to, but enjoyed her lithe, soft body wrapped around his.

Bedding her had not ended his obsession with her at all. It had merely altered it slightly. Now, instead of spending hours thinking about how it would feel to make love to her, he spent hours thinking about how good it felt to do so and just when he might do it again. As he cradled her firm little breasts in his hands and licked the silken skin between them, Payton mused that he might be a fool to let this one walk away.

“So, I had best be prepared for a visit from your kinsmen.” He cursed himself for an idiot when she tensed.

The mere thought of her kinsmen finding out about her and Payton had Kirstie thinking about leaping from the bed, grabbing her clothes, and finding some dark hole to hide in. Unfortunately, there was no place to go. There was also still Roderick to worry about and the children to protect. Nor could she leave Payton alone to face her kinsmen, especially if her family discovered she had shared his bed. Payton did not seem overly concerned about a possible confrontation with her kinsmen, but that could be both arrogance and ignorance. He had never faced nine furious Kinlochs before.

“Ye can do naught, Kirstie,” Payton said as he warmed her throat with kisses.

Kirstie gasped, then murmured her delight when he lowered his kisses to her breasts. “Oh, my. That feels so verra nice.” She inwardly struggled for some control as she recalled what they had been talking about. “Mayhap I
should
send word to them.”

“We shall thrash out the wording of a message on the morrow.”

“I may have to run away on the morrow.”

“Nay, ye will do nay more running.”

“But, he will bring the dogs.” She was not surprised to hear how shaky her voice was, for she was nearly panting. The way he was caressing her breasts with his lips,
hands, and tongue was driving her nearly mad with desire.

“Ye chose me as your champion, aye?” Payton moved his kisses to her silken midriff and taut belly as he stroked her legs with his hands.

“Aye.”

Kirstie was not sure if she was answering his question or inviting the more intimate touch of his tormenting hands. He was stroking her thighs, then her hips, his clever fingers brushing temptingly close to the part of her that now ached for him. She was shocked that she could crave something so scandalous, but she did. When he finally touched her woman’s flesh, the sigh that escaped her was a mixture of relief and delight.

“Then let your champion do what ye chose him for. I have sworn to protect ye and the children.” He slid his finger into her tight heat, enjoying the feel of her and the way she immediately raised her slim hips to welcome his touch. “At least let me have one chance to do so ere ye run again.” He placed his mouth where his fingers had just been.

“Oh, my God.”

For a brief moment, Kirstie’s whole body stiffened in shock. When she reached out to try to push him away, he grabbed her hands to hold them captive at her side. His broad shoulders thwarted her attempt to close her legs against such intimacy.

Then a searing heat began to blossom outward from where he stroked her with his tongue. Kirstie felt her body soften and open to him as passion raced through her veins. Payton released her hands, but this time, she made no move to stop him, but simply clutched at the bed linen as if to anchor herself. Even when he draped her trembling legs over his shoulders and slid his hands beneath her bottom, exposing her even more flagrantly to his sensuous intimacies, she made no protest, no attempt to pull away. She heard herself stutter out words of praise and delight and knew she was a willing prisoner for now.

Payton did his best to keep Kirstie teetering on the edge of release, delighted and enflamed by how completely she lost herself to this pleasure. He almost laughed when she rather forcefully demanded he cease his tormenting play and get himself inside of her—now!—but he was equally as desperate for the joining of their bodies. As he thrust into her, he took her nipple deep into his mouth and suckled hard. The way Kirstie shattered in his arms was enough to drag him into passion’s oblivion right along with her.

She was going to kill him, Payton thought, as he lay sprawled on top of Kirstie, still trembling faintly from the strength of his release. One quick glance at the woman beneath him revealed her with her arms out-flung and her eyes closed. For a moment, he thought he had made her swoon; then she lifted one arm and, somewhat gracelessly, flopped it across his back. He smiled faintly. It would have been something to be proud of if he had made her swoon with pleasure, but the clear evidence that he had sapped her of all strength was almost as pleasing. It was also only fair since she had left him as weak as a day-old bairn.

As his wits grew sharper, Payton became acutely aware of the fact that he was still inside of Kirstie. He had not withdrawn, had not spent himself upon the sheets, and he had not done so from the first. With every other woman he had bedded, he had done so, even with his first. His brothers and cousins had been impressed with his control, had said he must have been born with it. That control was not there with Kirstie. Each time he had felt his release upon him, he had not pulled away at all, not even tried to. No, he had thrust himself as deep into her lithe body as he could go and stayed there, filling her with
his seed.

He murmured his appreciation when her body briefly tightened around him and he felt himself begin to harden inside of her. Such a fierce lusting would explain his unusual carelessness, but Payton was not sure it was that simple. A small voice in the back of his mind whispered that it was not carelessness, it was calculation. The possibility that he was seeding her on purpose, was trying to get her with child so she could not leave him, did not alarm Payton. That, he decided, was probably verification enough of his subtle guile, a guile he had even failed to sense in himself until now.

There would be time to think about that later, Payton decided, as he felt desire reviving him. He slid his hand up her body and caressed her breast. Despite the way her nipple hardened quickly in welcome, Payton sensed a growing tension in Kirstie that had nothing to do with passion. He looked at her, but she blushed, and would not meet his gaze. He had forgotten how new Kirstie was to passion’s ways and how uncertain she was about him and the rightness of their being together like this. Clasping her small chin in his hand, he turned her face toward his and brushed a kiss over her lips.

“Ye fret yourself o’er naught, my dark angel,” he said, stroking her blush-warmed cheek.

“Naught?” she muttered, wishing she could so easily accept her own wanton behavior, her brazen compliance with what was, by every rule and law she knew of, a sin. “I have no shame,” she whispered. “I should disgust you.”

“Ye delight me.” He moved slightly inside of her, letting her feel the truth of his words.

“Weel, of course, for ye get what ye want when I cast aside all rules and modesty.”

“True.” He briefly grinned when she gave him a disgusted look, then quickly grew serious. “Ye are a beautifully passionate woman, Kirstie. Trust me to ken what I speak of when I say ’tis a gift, something ye should be proud and pleased with. Dinnae kill what is so beautiful with fears of sin and a foolish modesty. Ye chose to come to me. Can ye nay just accept your own choice?”

Kirstie wanted to, desperately. She did not like how her worries and fears robbed some of the beauty from what she and Payton shared. While it was true that he had done his utmost to seduce her into his bed, the final decision had been hers. Somehow she was going to have to fully accept that and, more important, be comfortable with it. Her time with Payton could well be short-lived and she would be the worst of fools to taint it with fears of sin and her own passionate nature. No one in this house had condemned her for becoming Payton’s lover and, for now, she would let their attitudes guide her and ignore the carping voices in her head which tried so hard to spoil it all.

As she wrapped her arms around him, she became aware of the fact that Payton’s manhood now filled her, and that he was moving ever so slightly, as if he could not help himself. “Ye want to do it again?”

He chuckled against her neck. “Aye. Ye intoxicate me.”

Payton had thought that he could go slowly, savor each thrust, each sigh and shiver, but Kirstie’s passion grew wild and demanding again. He swiftly found his control torn to shreds by her response. It was all too soon that he found himself again collapsed on top of her, both of them trembling from the force of their releases. He smiled faintly with a blend of chagrin and delight even as he succumbed to a need to rest.

As dawn’s light seeped into his bedchamber, Payton woke and reached for Kirstie.
Yet again he tried to go slowly, to make the pleasure last, and yet again he failed. He had just gained enough strength to move out of her arms when a knock sounded at the door.

“Roderick and his hounds are coming down our street,” Ian announced.

Kirstie tucked the blanket a little more securely around a sleeping Robbie. She wished she could find such peace, but doubted she would do so for quite a while. After Ian’s warning had shattered the morning, Payton had gotten them both dressed; then they had helped take the sleepy children down into the cellar. Now she huddled in the small, dark room with six children and prayed that Roderick would not get past Payton. It was not a pleasant way to start the day.

She glanced around the hiding place Payton had readied for them. It was lit by one candle, which she had been given strict orders to extinguish the moment she heard anyone enter this part of the cellars. The place was surprisingly dry and fresh of smell. There were blankets, pallets, a chamber pot, drink, and food. The children revealed that they had learned too young the ways of hiding, of remaining utterly silent. It was good that they could do so, but very sad as well.

“What is that smell?” asked Callum in a very soft whisper as he leaned against her side.

Even as Kirstie was about to ask what smell he meant, the odor reached her nose. Following the example of the grimacing children, Kirstie placed a hand over her nose. The smell was already easing ever so slightly before she recognized it. It was a particularly strong mix of what was used to clean the floors, especially if one wanted to kill off any fleas or other tiny vermin. Kirstie would not be too surprised to discover Alice had added very little to dilute what she had been curing in a small shed behind the house. Since that had consisted of the men’s urine, Kirstie knew that, if the dogs were brought down here, all they would smell would be Ian and Payton, if they could be made to put their keen noses to work at all.

“It smells like p—” began Moira, her voice surprisingly soft for such a young child.

“Aye,” Kirstie quickly interrupted in an equally soft voice. “’Twill distract the dogs. They willnae be able to smell us.”

“They willnae be able to smell anything for a fortnight if they put their noses to that,” said Callum.

“Is Mama going to make the whole house stink?” David asked.

Surprised at how quickly David had taken to calling Wee Alice his mother, it took Kirstie a moment to reply. “I certainly hope not. Yet, we must nay complain and we will help her if she needs to clear it all away, for ’tis done to help us.” She almost smiled at the look of dismay that crossed all their faces.

“So the monster willnae find us?” asked Moira, edging closer to Kirstie and placing one tiny hand on the blanket covering Robbie.

“Aye, so the monster cannae find us,” replied Kirstie. “Now, we must be verra quiet. The dogs have ears as keen as their noses. We shall sit here being verra quiet and still until Sir Payton comes to let us out.”

“It willnae be too long, will it?”

“Nay, I dinnae think it will be too long.”

Kirstie prayed she was right, then turned her prayers toward giving Payton and Ian all the guile and strength needed to turn Roderick away at the door. Roderick would not only have to be turned away, but would have to leave without gaining the smallest suspicion that he had been fooled or lied to, she realized, and began to pray even harder.

Payton almost laughed at the way Roderick, his men, and the four hounds with them recoiled when they entered his home. With what Wee Alice was vigorously scrubbing the floor with, if one flea leapt off a dog, it would be dead before it hit the floor. Ian liked to jest that the reason Wee Alice loved him was because she had bad eyesight and a poor sense of smell. Payton was beginning to think the latter just might be true. Unless she had some trick up her sleeve, it was going to take days for his house to stop reeking.

“’Tis early,” Payton said, fixing a cold look upon Roderick, “and I believe the game is more plentiful outside the town walls.”

“I dinnae hunt rabbit for the stew pot,” said Roderick, making no effort to hide his dislike. “I am hunting my wife.”

“I had heard that she had drowned.” Payton frowned and rubbed his chin. “If I recall, the one who told me made mention of the tragedy simply because she puzzled o’er your lack of grief.”

“A mon keeps his grief to himself. He doesnae display it to please some foolish wench.”

“Of course not. Ye will be pleased to ken that ye were behaving with great monly fortitude.” Payton decided it might be wise to temper his sarcasm, for Roderick’s eyes were narrowing with a look of growing suspicion. The man might just have enough wit to wonder what was causing Payton’s heavy disdain. “So, she didnae drown, aye?”

“It would seem that she didnae,” replied Roderick. My men Wattie and Gib saw her last eve.” He sighed. “I fear I tempered the truth a wee bit when I spoke of what happened that day. It wasnae a pleasant day shattered by a tragedy. Nay, I fear my wife and I were quarreling. She is a tempestuous lass.”

Fearing what he might say in response to Roderick’s portrayal of a saddened, concerned husband, Payton just nodded, silently encouraging the man to finish his fable.

“With a show of great drama, she plunged into the river. Thinking she sought to take her own life, I struggled to pull her from the water, but the currents swept her away. ’Twas fear for her immortal soul that made me hide the truth of what happened that day. Now it appears that my torment was for naught. If my men are right, my wife not only survived, but hides from me.” He shook his head. “She is obviously still angry with me.”

“Ah, another woman, was it?”

“A mon has his needs and is often too weak to resist the many temptations of the flesh.”

“The lasses can easily beguile a poor mon. Indeed they can. But, why do ye bring the dogs to my home?”

“The trail they followed led here.”

Payton felt confident that his look of shock and surprise was convincing. “How could that be? I have ne’er e’en met your wife. S’truth, didnae e’en ken ye were married until rumors of your wife’s death were spread about.”

“The dogs sniffed out the trail and it led right to your door.”

“They appear to have lost the trail now.” Payton gave the seated, panting dogs a telling glance. “Your wife may have paused by my door, but she didnae walk through it. I allow few women into my home. Especially another mon’s wife.”

The big, dark man holding the dogs’ leads snorted. “Ye have had near half the
lasses in Scotland. Tup them in the road, do ye?”

“Gib, silence,” Roderick said and then he looked at Payton. “I am sure Sir Payton wouldnae lie.”

“Of course not. I suspect I
have
had half the lasses in Scotland.” Payton ignored Ian’s snort of laughter. “I did not, er, tup any of them here, however. The women of my clan often stay here. And, I believe my feelings about soiling my own nest are no secret. But, please, feel free to search.”

Roderick hesitated only a moment before signaling his men to look around. “I mean no insult, Sir Payton,” he said as his men moved forward, urging their dogs on. “I dinnae accuse ye of lying to me, but my wife has an unusual skill, ye see. She could easily have made your house a refuge and ye wouldnae e’en ken she was here.”

“She can make herself invisible, can she?”

“Nearly. The woman can skillfully flit in and out of the shadows. She can be as still and as silent as one, as weel. ’Tis a most unladylike trick, but I place the blame upon her brothers. Too often they treated her as just another lad. I brought home a wife who lacked all training. It was a long time ere I felt she could be presented to anyone outside of Thanescarr.”

Payton wondered almost idly if he had ever wanted to hit someone as badly as he wanted to hit Roderick MacIye—repeatedly. It was a good thing Kirstie could not hear this. He had no doubt that she would be enraged, more for the insult to her brothers than to herself.

The return of Roderick’s men, with a scolding Alice close behind them, diverted Payton from his thoughts. Alice could sound positively shrewish, he mused with a flicker of amusement. That faded quickly when he saw how Ian moved to stand between his wife and Roderick’s men. Gib and Wattie had suddenly turned to face Alice, their fists clenched.

“I would strongly suggest that your men leave my serving woman alone,” Payton said.

“Gib, Wattie,” Sir Roderick called. “Leave the woman be. We have interrupted her cleaning.”

“Cleaning?” Gib muttered as, after giving Alice one final glare, he started out the door. “The place smells like a cursed garderobe. I wouldnae be surprised if the dogs are near ruined for a sennight.”

“We have recently suffered a plague of fleas,” Payton said and shrugged. “The woman claims this is the way to end it. One must wonder, however, if the cure could prove far worse than the illness. Then, too, I wasnae expecting any visitors so didnae think this would be inflicted upon anyone.” Payton was mildly satisfied when a slight flush colored Roderick’s cheeks, revealing that the man had understood the subtle rebuke.

“I thank ye for your patience, Sir Payton,” Roderick said, and, after a somewhat curt bow, he and his men left.

“Bastard,” Ian muttered, then frowned at his wife. “And what game were ye playing? Trying to see how hard ye could push those fools ere one of them knocked ye on your arse?”

Alice crossed her arms over her fulsome breasts and glared at the door Roderick had just gone through. “They were making a mess of my clean floors.”

“Ah, aye, the floors.” Payton grimaced. “Ye do have a way to get rid of the smell, I
pray.”

“Och, aye. Scrubbing with something less foul, a few rinses, and a few fresh rushes. Although the smell may linger a wee while in the cellars. I was a wee bit heavy-handed down there. I was anxious, ye ken, and wanted to be verra sure those beasties couldnae smell Lady Kirstie or the bairns.” She looked at Payton. “Can we let them out now?”

“Nay just yet. I want to be sure that fool has given up the hunt for the day. We must also hope that he decides ’tis a waste of time to use the dogs.”

“I will follow them,” Ian announced, even as he headed out the door.

Alice sighed. “I hope my lads are nay too afeared in that wee, dark room.”

“They will be fine,” Payton assured her. “They have Kirstie with them.”

“Aye, true enough. I will start scrubbing away this stink, then.”

“Ye dinnae think we ought to leave that for a wee while in case the bastard comes back?”

“Nay. What I put down should have taken away any trail those beasties might follow. Until Lady Kirstie and the bairns start walking about again, and laying down a fresh trail, leastwise. ’Tis fortunate they didnae go inside the bedchambers, for I wasnae certain I had the time to hide all sign of the bairns or Lady Kirstie. By the time those fools stomped up there, however, they had ceased trying to get the dogs to sniff out their prize and only looked into each bedchamber.”

“That was a fine touch of good fortune. I hope it stays with us for a while.”

“Do ye think he believed ye, Payton? ’Twould be best if he looked elsewhere and ne’er returned here.”

“It would be best, but we must remain prepared. We can only pray that he doesnae think too long on how the dogs led him to my door, or how convenient it was that we chose this verra day to make my house smell like a privy. If he does, he could come up with some answers that will turn his search back on me.”

“Curse it, the dogs took us right to that pretty bastard’s door,” grumbled Gib as he sat down at the table and poured himself a tankard of ale. “They didnae do that at any other house.”

“Nay, they didnae,” murmured Roderick.

Slouched in his chair, Roderick sipped his wine and stared somewhat blindly at one of the tapestries gracing the walls of his great hall. Gib was not known for his keen wits, but this time he was right. They had covered the whole town and, although the dogs had picked up Kirstie’s scent, as well as Callum’s, numerous times, not once had they gone straight to another door. At Sir Payton’s house the dogs had acted just as they had when they had sniffed out that wretched hole in the ground Kirstie had plainly used as a hiding place. Unfortunately, it was obvious she had not used it for some time except to hide from Gib and Wattie, if the reactions of those two fools were anything to go by. The idiots had tried a little too hard to hide the fact that they recognized the place. Roderick suspected that was where they had lost Kirstie last evening.

Several things about the confrontation with Sir Payton Murray troubled Roderick as well. Why had the man been awake and dressed so early in the morning? It could be that he had had work to do or had just arrived home after entertaining some woman, but Roderick did not think so. Sir Payton had acted appropriately surprised and somewhat
outraged, but Roderick simply could not shake the feeling that it was, indeed, all an act. There had been a cold look in the man’s eyes, the occasional glimpse of a fury greater than was warranted by the intrusion into his home. Then there was that reeking concoction that woman had been spreading throughout the house. He knew some of the remedies used to rid a house of fleas could be foul, but
that
foul? And it just happened to have been spread all over Sir Payton’s house at the exact time Roderick’s hounds were clinging fast to Kirstie’s trail? Such a coincidence was difficult to accept.

Roderick drummed his fingers on the arm of his ornately carved oak chair. The more he thought about all that had happened at Sir Payton’s house, the more suspicious he became. Sir Payton was one of those foolish men who wasted his manly beauty on women. The idiotic wenches tumbled over themselves in their attempts to catch him between their thighs. Roderick was not sure when his wife might have made Sir Payton’s acquaintance, but he could all-too-easily see her going to the handsome, highly lauded knight to plea for aid.

And if she had done so, he thought with a sigh, then Sir Payton now knew too much. He, too, would have to die. For a brief moment, Roderick felt a pang of regret. Sir Payton was the only man who had made Roderick consider the possibility of expanding his sensual experiences to include men. The man’s beauty could stir lustful thoughts in a stone. Sir Payton, however, only lusted after women, so there had been no chance to test his ability to gain his pleasure in some new way.