Highland Dragon (21 page)

“Would your Robert betray his country for ye?” Akira asked while she considered their limited options.

“Yes. I believe he would.” Elsbeth held her hand tight. Hope shined in the tear falling from pale green eyes.

“I realize the danger ye’ve put yourself and your son in by trusting me, but I can assure ye, ye will suffer the cruelties of your sister nay more, nor Ian. I am going to help ye, but I need time.”

“Thank you, m’lady.” Elsbeth kissed her knuckles as Akira stood to leave. “And I will never reveal your secret either.”

Akira halted beneath the archway genuinely perplexed by her comment. “What secret?”

“That you are a witch.”

Calin said a fortnight. He’d been gone three times longer. Akira vowed if her husband didn’t return by this Sabbath she would go in search of him herself. Neither the elders, nor a single member of the
mesnie
seemed the least bit concerned by his delay.

Granted, not a moment of her days were spent in boredom. She worked with Isobel’s recovery every morn, and she’d acquainted herself with the servants, the baker, the brewer, the butcher, and devoted a great deal of her time to the elder kinswomen who worked diligently on the quilt. The children consumed the remaining hours. The first few days only a dozen matrons brought their children to the keep following morning mass. But within a sennight, Akira relocated her entourage to the front lawn when more than sixty children arrived, eager for tutoring.

Elsbeth and Brady had settled into a vacant chamber near the scullery and the kinswomen arrived in droves to help her with the quilt. They stitched the last patch the day prior and presented it to Akira beneath the shade of an old oak as she schooled the children in French. Unable to control her sentiments, Akira had cried outright at the kindhearted display. Never had she seen a more beautiful quilt. Multicolored flowers surrounded the focal point, which oddly enough was a deep plum dragon with eyes of tiny sapphires. Elsbeth wouldn’t divulge how she conceptualized the creative motif, but Akira was nonetheless pleased.

Catriona had not shown her despicable face, and for that Akira expressed eternal gratitude to her Maker. Her responsibilities elevated without facing another confrontation with the woman she felt inferior to. Elsbeth assured her Ian wouldn’t seek her out. He had admitted to Elsbeth that he was a wee bit frightened of Akira’s pagan powers. Akira had assured her new friend she possessed no unearthly powers, but Elsbeth only winked and grinned.

The women befriended her, accepting her as part of their kin, and Akira warmed with their attentions. Mam would be proud of her and she felt Papa’s presence as she walked among her new family with honor. She hoped Calin would be pleased with her accomplishments when he returned. His absence made her heart ache, and the fear that something horrible happened to him grew in her gut daily until the worrisome knot became too much to bear. She had learned it was useless to fight the deep-seated emotions she felt for her husband. Instead, she tried to focus her energy on the children.

Andrew was perched in her lap sucking his thumb, while Akira occupied the children. She entwined their minds around the tale of a mighty dragon. Her voice altered in high and low pitches for each character, making the story more dramatic. “…And after the brave knight buried the steel of his sword into the heart of the fire-breathing dragon, he fell to his knees. A bright pink light beamed from the dragon’s wound. Suddenly”—Akira paused, every child’s eyes rounded like silver shillings—“the dragon transformed into a—” her words caught in her throat, for over top the knoll she sighted her husband.

Calin walked alone.

Her heart pounded against her ribs when his strides lengthened. Akira tossed Andrew into a quartet of young lasses, raised her kirtle, and rounded a corner of the quilt.

“M’lady, ye cannae leave. What did the dragon turn into?” A tiny voice asked from within the throng of children and then a multitude of begging voices protested.

Akira blew a breath then quickly concluded her tale. “The dragon turned into a beautiful maiden with hair the color of a raven’s wing and eyes of sapphire blue.”

“And did she fall in love with the brave knight?”

“Aye, she did,” she hollered over her shoulder. “And they lived happily ever after.”

With the children content with the conclusion of her story, Akira’s pace quickened. What had delayed his return? Had he been hurt? Attacked en route by brigands? Where were his kinsmen? Her feet couldn’t keep up with her worries, and her walk turned into a fevered run. A cool wind pushed tears across her temples while the burning in her chest dried her throat.

She only wanted to touch his skin and be reassured he was unharmed.

Calin seemed to be in an equal hurry to reach her. They met at the base of the knoll, both inhaling air in starving gulps.

Sweat trickled down her spine.

An arm’s length separated them.

Relief swelled in her throat. She feared she might burst into tears right here before him.

Dark auburn hair settled atop his shoulders in wet waves. His freshly shaven jaw gleamed and the clean scent of a recent bath clung to the air like a fresh mist of rain. Fatigue rested beneath his eyes in dark half-moons, but his one brow remained raised and ever perky. She touched his forearm. His skin felt cool and damp beneath her burning fingertips.

The muscles of his chest heaved. “Are ye angry with me?”

“Should I be?”

“Nay.”

His answer cooled the tear-streaked path along one cheek. His eyes twitched as he studied her. He licked his lips.

She could no longer hide her feelings for her husband. No longer wanted to. She wanted to leap onto his chest and crush his mouth with her kiss.

The fire in his eyes told her he wanted the same.

The whoops and cheers of the many kinfolk gathering on the lawn jarred her. His strong arm shook beneath her fingertips. Her breathing sounded raspy in her ears. She could bear it no more.

“We have much to discuss,” they said in unison.

Akira smiled and lowered her lashes bashfully, but Calin jerked her in the direction of the keep, nearly pulling her arm loose from her shoulder. By the time they reached the worn path, they were sprinting for the front entrance.

Once inside the keep, Gordon tried to stay them. “Welcome home, m’laird.”

“Gather the elders,” Calin tossed over his shoulder. “We need to meet after I speak with my wife.”

Gordon spoke, but his words were incomprehensible behind her. They reached the base of the tower stairwell and Calin took three steps to her one. She clutched at her skirts trying to follow him up the stairs of the west wing. Evie and Tara ducked beneath a pitch-pine torch as they whirled past.

“M’lady, have ye need of anything?”

Akira didn’t know which maid asked the question, nor did she care. “Nay.” The single word echoed throughout the tower stairwell. Her body flashed with expectancy. Her nipples hardened against the coarse wool of her sark. She should inquire of his journey. A good wife would pay heed to his needs. Was it possible he felt the same sense of urgency as she? The same longing?

The stairwell seemed endless. She couldn’t keep up with Calin’s strides and stumbled. He jogged back down and carried her the remaining twenty steps to his solar. Kicking the door open, Calin dropped her to her feet and barred the adjoining doors while she did the same with his solar door.

“We need to talk,” Calin said, but no words followed when he tossed his belt and claymore to the floor with a clank. He looked angry or mayhap impatient.

After removing the long pin holding his plaid at his waist, he jerked his
léine
shirt over his head. His hot hands closed over her wrists and pressed her open palms against his bare chest. The depth of desire in his eyes burned her face. The intensity scared her. “Have I displeased ye, m’laird?”

“Nay.” His hands clutched her skull and tilted her head, then his lips covered hers. Their tongues spiraled each other in a frenzied chase. Calin pulled away, but not before nibbling at each lip. Teasing, taunting, promising so much more.

She inhaled deeply through her nose, trying to steady her turbulent emotions. Her mind, her body, her entire being felt trapped inside a storm. Moisture flooded between her legs. A proper wife would never conduct herself in such a manner. She should break free of him.

The task proved impossible. “I’ve verra much to tell ye. I started schooling the children.” She panted between eager breaths. Gooseflesh sprouted over her collarbone when his mouth moved to the pulse in her neck.

“I’ve much to tell ye, too, but I need ye—now.” Calin raised her kirtle and impaled his thumb into the damp curls between her legs while his fingers stroked the cleft of her backside. His eyes widened wickedly. “And ye need me as well.” He looked starved, crazed—the same as she felt.

Embarrassed he found her in such a state of arousal, Akira lowered her lids and moaned. The intimate touch made her knees weak and her sensitive breasts tighten.

When she started for the bed, Calin pressed her against the door. “Nay. Here. Now!”

He gave her no time to rebuke his demand. He shed his plaid and raised her atop him. She latched her boots around his waist while strong fingers circled her bottom and opened her hot flesh to him. She bit her bottom lip when he slid inside her. Pressing her back against the solidity of the wooden door, he plunged into her.

She gasped at the intensity, but couldn’t control her racing mind. So much needed to be said, and she couldn’t hold back the information. “Jaime…has asked Isobel…to be his wife,” she mentioned, while suckling his neck and searching for an anchor.

“I met with King James…and have his permission…to pursue an alliance.” Calin ripped the brooch from her
arisaid
to free her of the heavy wool while she worked at the laces of her bodice. The thin linen of her sark didn’t stand a chance. The seams ripped against his desperate need to get to her breasts. His teeth found her rigid nipple—bathing, sucking, biting, while he buried himself deep inside her. The door knocked within its frame with each thrust.

She whimpered, but continued their conversation. “I’ve petitioned the king…for an annulment.”

Calin ceased abruptly. His amber eyes filled with upset.

She pulled his bottom lip between her teeth and smiled. “Not for us, for Elsbeth.”

“Och, lass. Ye gave me a fright.” Calin growled and lunged back inside her.

She squealed, then inhaled sharply. “I know who abducted me.”

He silenced her with a kiss. His tongue swirled through the recesses of her mouth while he pumped hard and fast. He pressed the backs of her hands against the door and filled her with his seed. “King James wishes me to marry English,” he said between sporadic breaths.

She fell against his shoulder when the deluge of ecstasy overcame her. “I missed ye.”

“I missed ye more.” Calin put his arms around her back and carried her across the chamber. After shedding the garment hanging from her waist, she fell onto the bed. Her body ached for him and her mind turned to mush. What did he say about marrying English?

“I met with Logan Donald and Kendrick,” he informed her while he freed himself of his deerskin boots.

“Is Kendrick with ye?” She tried to sit up, but he pushed her back against the bolster and pinned her arms above her head with one hand. The other wicked hand rekindled the fire between her legs until she thought her bones would combust.

“Aye, he just returned from securing your sisters and mam with the Donalds,” Calin answered, his voice raspy and out of breath.

She wanted to ask more questions. There was so much to discuss. So much to do. But she only wanted to make love to her husband and not worry about the problems they would face.

Crivons! What was he doing with his hand?

The thickness of his middle fingers spiraled in the most private area of her body, while his thumb flicked deep inside her. She rolled her hips in response and clenched her muscles around his teasing touch.

Calin pulled her fingers to titillate one breast while he filled his palm with the other, then proceeded to kiss his way down her belly—never once easing the exquisite torment between her legs.

“I need to meet with the elders.” He breathed against her nether curls.

She squealed when he drew her swollen pebble between his teeth. Quivers of delight rippled beneath her skin. Icy air sucked through her teeth, then she exhaled her words. “I’ll not be long now. I vow it…Ye must be…hungry.”

“I am ravenous.” Calin flipped her onto her stomach and gnawed on her backside. He was grateful he didn’t make camp with the others, even though the inside of his thighs were raw from the saddle. The glow of a full moon lit his way back to Cànwyck Castle as he rode throughout the night. He missed his wife. The irrefutable ache in his chest drove him to push Sirius to near exhaustion. His hands had burned with the desire to press his wife’s body against his own and feel her hands caress his heart.

An empty stomach begged him for two days to stop, but he’d ignored the cramps. None of it mattered now. She was here, with him and not even the king’s demands would take her from him.

He closed his mouth over the pink MacLeod crest branded on her creamy cheek. The brand marking her as his. He wanted to fill her with life. A new life. A child. He raised her to her knees and filled his palms with the milky swells of her behind. By the saints, the woman presented a tantalizing sight. She was pink and swollen and glistening with need.

His manhood filled with blood instantly and jumped. He positioned his fully erect member between her silky mons. Running a hand up her spine, he pressed her shoulders to the coverlet and spread her legs wide with his knees. Sliding himself into her, he gripped her hipbones and rocked her against him, again and again. When she mimicked the cadence, he reached around to circle her tiny nub until she screamed in exhilarated rapture.

The muscles in his thighs clenched. The heat of her orgasm, along with the friction caused by the awkward position he twisted her into, snapped any restraint he may have still possessed. A peculiar, yet wonderful, sensation rippled through him as he poured life inside her womb. A life that would bond them together forever.

Loosening his hold on her, he gently caressed her hips and watched the red ovals fade where he’d gripped her pale flesh. Sprawling out beside her, he rolled to her side and wedged her against him. The silky softness of her damp body molded against his rugged skin. He kissed the back of her eyelids and wiped the sheen of sweat from her top lip. He caressed the base of her breast with his callused knuckles and speculated how any part of this woman could belong to Laird Kinnon.