Highland Captive (47 page)

“With
so many MacGuins and Mengues encircling the place, I would be surprised if even
Rory’s spirit could slip through the net. She will be sore embarrassed if she
ever kens that the men are about, even if it is at a respectable distance,”
Lagan added.

“Then
I best be sure she doesnae find out. Hide, for here she comes and she has a
face near as dark as mine.”

Aimil
met Parlan’s cheerful, welcoming smile with a frown. “I still dinnae think this
is a good idea but I couldnae find a soul to agree with me. In truth, I
couldnae find a soul at all. I dinnae suppose that ye ken why that should be.”

“‘Tis
a fine day, lass. I expect many a lad or lassie has slipped free of work to
enjoy it.”

“Aye,
near to half of Dubhglenn if my eyes dinnae deceive me.” Knowing very well she
was being played with, Aimil was torn between amusement and annoyance.

“And
such lovely eyes they are too.”

She
rolled her eyes in disgust over that blatant flattery intended to divert her. “Ye
arenae going to explain it all, are ye?”

“T’will
all be clear in a moment,” he said brightly as he picked her up and set her
upon her horse.

Starting
to get down she said, “Now, wait a moment. I think I have a right to ken what
game is being played here.”

“Ah,
ye intend to be troublesome, do ye? Weel, I am prepared for that.”

A
near screech of annoyance and surprise escaped her when he grasped her by the
wrists and gently, but firmly, secured them with a soft binding. He then
blindfolded her. In the midst of her sense of outrage was the feeling that he
had intended to do this right from the beginning unless she had been totally
and blissfully accepting.

“Are
ye mad?” she ground out as he set her back upon her horse.

“Not
at all, dearling. Best hold on,” he advised cheerfully as he mounted and took
up her reins.

Aimil
barely got a good grip upon Elfking when Parlan started them on their way. She
wished she knew where they were going. In fact, she had a lot of complaints
about how he was acting and what he was doing. As they rode, she informed him
of each and every one of them, and grew increasingly exasperated at the
pleasant way he refuted or ignored each of them. When they finally came to a
halt and he took her down from her horse, she waited impatiently for him to
unbind her so that she could hit him.

Warily,
Parlan took the binding from her wrists then slipped the blindfold from her
eyes. He knew she was not going to be pleased about where he had brought her.
It was necessary to him, however, to erase all the bad memories of the place.
He did not want there to be any part of his lands where she did not feel safe,
or as safe as anyone could feel in such troubled times.

“Weel,
here we are, love.”

Before
he had uncovered her eyes, she had heard the now familiar soft wail, and
forgetting about her intentions of hitting him, she stared around her in near
horror. “Oh, nay, Parlan, not here.”

“Aye,
here.” He thrust the basket of food into her arms then collected the blanket. “‘Tis
a fine spot.”

“Weel,
aye, ‘tis pretty.” She reluctantly followed him as he went to the same spot
they had gone each time before and spread out the blanket. “‘Tis just that I
dinnae really like it any longer, foolish as that may seem to ye.”

Sitting
down and tugging her down beside him, he lightly kissed her mouth. “I willnae
have ye fearing a place on my land—our land. I willnae have there be a place
that holds naught but bad memories and bad feeling. ‘Tis true that none can
think themselves perfectly safe wherever they go, but I mean to have ye feel as
much so as possible while ye are upon MacGuin land. There is also the fact
that, from the first time I brought ye here, I thought it would be a fine spot
for our special place and, being a stubborn man, I dinnae mean to let aught
change that.” He served her some wine, smiling at her when she sipped from her
tankard.

“Our
special place?”

“Aye,
all couples should have one. A place to go to to mark the special moments in
their lives, like having a new, healthy bairn.”

She
smiled, her mood improving quickly. Although a part of her remained wary,
expecting something to go wrong at any moment, she tried to relax and enjoy the
time they had together. Parlan was indeed recovered and that was certainly
something to celebrate. He was also acting his most charming and it was nearly
impossible to be anything but happy when he did so.

After
he was finished eating, Parlan cleaned his mouth and hands with a dampened
cloth. He then leaned closer to Aimil to do the same for her, kissing each spot
he washed clean. Seeing how her breathing grew swift and erratic, and her
lovely eyes darkened with passion increased his ever-present hunger for her. He
smiled crookedly as he tossed aside the cloth and pulled her into his arms for
he knew that their first bout of lovemaking was going to be swift and fierce,
their need for each other demanding it.

Some
time later, Aimil slowly opened her eyes and looked at the man collapsed atop
her. Neither of them had managed to shed much of their clothing, their bodies
too eager to join for them to be bothered by undressing. She felt deliciously
ravished and smiled as she slipped her arms more securely around him. Despite
the pleasant feelings that surrounded her, however, she could not stop from
glancing around a little warily, looking for a danger her common sense said was
not there.

“Ye
are safe, Aimil,” Parlan murmured as he raised his head and brushed his lips
over hers. “This time we will have no rude interruptions. All will go as I
planned.” He eased their embrace but stayed close to her.

“Ye
planned something else, did ye?” She tried to take his assurances of safety to
heart and ignore her fears.

“Weel,
aside from a less hasty tussle with ye”—he grinned when she blushed—“I thought
we would have ourselves a wee talk.”

“A
talk? About what?”

“Us.”
He wondered why a brief look of fear crossed her face.

Even
though she told herself not to be foolish, she could not suppress a tremor of
fear. He looked so serious and never before had he wished to discuss their
relationship. When he had never given her any real hint of his feelings, she
could not help but view a talk on them as a couple somewhat ominously. Even
telling herself that Parlan would never be so cruel as to make love to her then
tell her that he no longer desired her as a wife did not stop the taint of fear
from possessing her.

“What
about us?” she asked in a whisper.

“Aimil,
I wish ye wouldnae look as if I am about to say something ye have no wish at
all to hear.”

“I
beg your pardon?”

He
sighed, feeling his courage and determination waver. She did not look ready or
willing to hear him speak his heart. Then he recalled the way she had cried out
when she had seen him fall, quite possibly to his death. The emotion he had
recognized in that cry gave him the strength to go on with his plan to be
honest.

“Dearling,
I dinnae ken what ye think I mean to say but it willnae be so bad.” He smiled
when she briefly looked guilty. “Dinnae ye think ‘tis far past time that we
talk on us?”

“Aye,
I do.” She wondered if he meant to pull truths from her that she was not sure
she was ready to reveal.

“We
have gone along for over a year with few words about how we might feel or what
we might wish from each other. We talk on near to everything beneath God’s sun,
but when it comes to speaking of what we feel, ‘tis only to talk of the passion
we share. That is glorious, loving, but ‘tis not all that binds us and I think
‘tis past time for us to look at what does and what we truly wish to give or to
get from each other.” She still looked nervous to him, and he smiled, kissing
her gently. “Come, Aimil, can it be so hard?”

“Aye,
it can. I cannae think that there are many who can speak freely of all they
hold in their heart. ‘Tis not easy to reveal oneself so fully.”

“True.
I planned that as the second thing I meant to do whilst we were alone here.”

“The
second?”

“Aye,
I have already done the first thing I wished to, what I was sore pressed to do
when I kissed you back at Dubhglenn.”

She
smiled and ran her finger along the strong line of his chin. “I was briefly
thinking of pushing ye back into bed but nae to rest.”

“Ah,
so I didnae have to chase ye after all.”

“Ye
never have,” she murmured, and grimaced. “I didnae even fight ye at the start
though all I have always learned and believe in told me I should, bargain made
or nay. I tumble back for ye with the ease of any whore espying the glint of
gold.”

“And
that troubles ye, does it? Do ye think ‘tis different for me? Ye can have me
any time ye even think ye might want me.”

“‘Tis
not the same for a man. A man is always ready to tussle with a lass.”

“Aye,
in most ways but ‘tis only lusting that brings that about.” He took her hand in
his and kissed her fingers. “Ye but crook one of these wee fingers and I am
like a stag in rut. That isnae the usual way. It never has been with me at
least.”

It
was not such a really big thing but his admission of sharing her weakness for
making love sent her heart soaring. She thought wryly that she was easily
pleased. There was so much more she hungered for yet she found delight in
crumbs.

“Should
I crook my finger now?” she whispered.

“Nay,
still it for the moment. We arenae done talking, lass, and weel ye ken it. All
we have talked upon is our passion for each other and that has always been
acknowledged between us. I wish to speak on things we have held within us, kept
silent about.”

“Who
goes first?”

“Now,
there is a puzzle, eh? ‘Tis often what stills one’s tongue. No one wishes to be
the first to bare one’s soul.”

“Because
then the other need not do the same but then holds all the power, especially
the power to hurt,” she added softly.

“Aimil,
my wife, I would never hurt ye on purpose. I swear that. I cannae swear I never
would for a man can be an unthinking creature at times but I never want to
cause ye pain. What hurts ye, hurts me.” He lightly touched her mouth with his
finger. “Tell me what ye want from me, Aimil. Ye have never asked a thing of
me. I dinnae truly ken what ye want or need.”

“Faithfulness.
I fear I am a verra jealous sort.”

“I
noticed,” he murmured, and grinned.

“‘Tisnae
verra funny, Parlan.” She sighed. “It isnae a verra nice feeling.”

“I
ken it. I suffer the same ailment myself.”

“Aye?”

“Aye.
It gnaws at my innards whenever ye smile at any man. What troubles me about it
is that I sometimes fear what I might do to ye if I thought ye had turned to
another.”

Recalling
that coldness that had been in his voice whenever he responded to her
occasional threats to find another man, she realized that he spoke the truth.
He did get jealous, fiercely jealous. She knew it was not the best of emotions
but was pleased that he suffered from it.

“Why
do ye think I grew so angry with Artair that day he assaulted ye? Aye, I dinnae
hold with such things but it wasnae his breaking of my rules that spurred that
rage. It was because he had struck ye. I saw it even then, kenned it as the
source of my fury. It became the reason I sought Rory’s death as weel. I forgot
most all the evil he had done, only remembered what he had done to ye.”

“As
to being faithful, I have been and I mean to do my best to stay faithful. I
have no true interest in the wenches who smile so welcomingly. They cannae give
me what I can find in your arms, and none of them are worth spoiling what we
have. A man can be a weak creature though, dearling. The right touch, a weak
moment...” He shrugged. “I can but swear that I never intend to break your
trust in me.”

She
caressed his cheek, deeply moved by his words. Each thing he said seemed to
indicate that he did care for her. So too did she know that his promise of
faithfulness was no small thing. Few men gave it or felt it necessary, did, in
truth, feel it their right to bed a woman, any woman, as the need took them.
His promise, though qualified with an admission of a man’s weakness, eased the
fears she had never successfully fought.

“And
I have no want or need for another. I had such fears,” she whispered.

“Of
what, Aimil?” He knew he was close to pulling some confession of the heart from
her, and felt himself tense.

“That
I couldnae hold a man such as ye, that I would wake one morn to find that I
couldnae give ye all ye needed and ye had gone elsewhere. I feared to find that
I no longer even held your passion.” She bit her tongue to stop her
confessions.

Seeing
her reluctance, he decided he could be excused for using underhanded methods.
It was past time for them to be honest with each other. He knew that, if he got
her passion running hot, she would not be able to guard her words so well, so
he proceeded to do his best, albeit subtly, to get her into a fever. With a
touch of self-derision, he admitted that he wanted at least a strong sign of
deep feelings on her part before he bared his soul. He wanted her to go first,
fair or not.