Highland Moonlight (12 page)

“I have never believed you were not innocent.”

She rose, and turned to face him. He was leaning a hip against the

table with his arms folded across his bare chest. The muscles in his arms

bulged. Her mouth grew dry just looking at him. Perhaps she really was

unchaste. “Did I do something to make you believe I would welcome you in

my bed, before we were wed?”

“Nay, Mary.” He shook his head. “You did nothing wrong.”

“Then why did you come to me?” Her voice cracked and she struggled

to retain her composure. When he hesitated before answering, her hands

fisted at her sides.

His gaze fastened on her face. “You did nothing other than be the

woman you are. I wanted you to be my wife because of it, more than the

agreement between your clan and mine. But I did not think you would agree

to the match, and Collin meant to break the agreement.”

So he had come to her.

She swallowed against the painful knot in her throat. Her gaze

wavered from his face in an attempt to retain her composure. She had loved

him so, the thought of holding back had never occurred to her—but she had

never expected him to treat her with anything save respect. Now at least,

she understood his motives, but it did not ease the terrible sense of loss

the knowledge brought her.

To occupy her hands, and still their trembling, she moved to the

washstand to retrieve her brush then sat on the bed to tidy her hair. She

started as Alexander unbuckled the girdle from about his waist and allowed

his trews to fall to the floor. She stared at the muscular tautness of his

buttocks, thighs, and calves, and then quickly looked away. The many hours

on horseback and training at the art of war had honed his body to a state of

sleek, masculine perfection. The movement, as he bent from the waist to

wash his legs and feet, brought into play the muscles of his back and arms

and drew her attention despite herself. She forced her eyes away, her face

burning at the immodesty of her interest.

“Will you fold my fresh kilt for me Mary? ‘Tis in the chest.”

Grateful for the distraction, she quickly finished braiding her hair. She

rose to find him offering her his girdle. With her gaze carefully averted, she

snatched it from his hand. She placed the wide leather belt on the bed and

arranged the sheath for his sword and the leather sporran in which he

carried his possessions. She spread the kilt over the girdle and folded the

pleats in place. She sensed Alexander’s movements behind her and

straightened.

He moved close beside her, a shirt in his hands. The thick swirls of

auburn hair covering his chest tapered into a thin line past his navel, to

blossom into a thatch at his groin. His member protruded, long and flaccid,

from the center of it. Even as she watched, it grew in size and length,

stiffening straight out.

A feeling of helplessness raced through her. She stumbled back

surprised, embarrassed ,and turned to flee.

Alexander caught her about the waist, and pulled her back against

him.

“‘Tis a natural thing, my wanting you, Mary. I can not help the way I feel

about you anymore than I can stop breathing, but it does not mean I am

going to force you to serve me.”

His cheek, cool and beard roughened, pressed to hers. His breath,

warm against her ear, sent strange shivers up her spine. “I have not

touched you in any way you do not wish, have I, lass?”

“Nay.” Fear had nothing to do with the feelings running rampant

through her. Her hands ached to stroke the muscular forearms holding her.

The feel of his large male body fit so familiarly against hers had her breath

coming in ragged gulps. Her body grew weak with longing as he moved

against her. She wanted to turn against him and bring his lips to hers. Her

body ached to be closer in a way she found both exciting and confusing.

A fist pounded on the door. Duncan’s voice came from behind the thick

portal. “The MacNaughtens have struck the east pasture and stolen a small

flock. I’m going with David to see to it. Will you be coming, Alexander?”

He drew a deep breath. “Do you wish me to go, Mary?”

Possibilities both exciting and frightening stretched before her. Was

she brave enough to say nay? Was her pride healed enough to lower the

barriers between them?

From her seat on a courtyard bench along the castle wall, Mary

watched the two grooms’ movements. She scanned the small herd of

horses penned in a coral at the west side of the stables. Where might the

young mare be? Since Collin had reclaimed the gelding, she had no horse,

and had been eyeing the mare for days. Waiting for an opportunity to slip

inside the stable and find her, Mary leaned back against the wall and

pretended an interest in the blacksmith’s actions.

The ringing of the smith’s hammer clanged against the medal shoe

he melded, distracting and loud. She watched as the sparks flew from the

blows and nearly missed the young groom’s passage across the courtyard

to the gate. She looked about for the other man, but could not see him.

Rising slowly from her seat, she circled the stable’s perimeter

seeking the back entrance. She ducked through the railing of the coral and

wove her way around the horses penned there to the opening.

Once inside, she rested back against a stall door and breathed in the

scent of hay, leather, and horses while her eyes adjusted to the dim light.

Something tugged at the hood of her cloak. She turned to find a horse

nibbling playfully on the fabric. She stroked the animal’s forehead and nose

then moved down the center aisle.

The sounds of movement alerted her to the groom’s presence.

Occupied with shoveling out the stall, his back to her, he remained unaware

of her presence as she eased past the open door.

She found the mare in one of the stalls closest to the courtyard.

Clicking her tongue to gain the animal’s attention, she withdrew small bits

of dried apple from the deep pocket of her surcoat. The mare nuzzled her

neck, breathing in her scent, then took the offered treat from her palm.

Looking about for the necessary bridle and saddle, she crept to a

sturdy wooden door along the south wall and pressed her ear to the panel.

Hearing no movement within, she eased it open. The light of a dully-burning

torch illuminated the bridles hung on one wall. Saddles draped across

narrow wooden benches lay in rows the length of the room. Closing the

door behind her, she plucked a bridle from its hook, then wove her way

through the organized clutter until she spied a woman’s sidesaddle. She

rested her hand against her stomach and sighed. She would not chance

harming her child to lift it. She thought about riding bareback and shook her

head.

“Do you wish a horse saddled, Lady Mary?”

She started violently and smothered a gasp as she turned to face the

groom, a slightly built gray haired man.

“Aye, I would.”

The man nodded and scooped up the bothersome sidesaddle and

carried it out of the tack room. He wiped the leather of the saddle down with

a rag. “‘Tis been some time since this has been used. ‘Twas Lady

Isobel’s.”

“My husband’s mother’s?”

“Aye.”

She watched as he checked the leather girth and stirrup straps.

“The Laird will not mind my using it?” she asked.

“Nay,” The man glanced at her. “I’d say he would make a gift of it, had it

occurred to him you needed it. ‘Tis plain he is taken with you.”

Mary smiled. Her father-in-law’s open acceptance of her had

smoothed the way with his people. But what trials might she face with

Alexander’s people?

There was time enough to worry about that at
Caisteal Sith.
She turned

the thoughts aside. “And what of Lady Isobel?”

A smile played about the man’s lips. “She had a temper as hot as a

forge and a heart as big as all of Scotland. She would welcome your use of

the saddle.”

She watched as he made quick work of readying the horse for her. As

he guided the mare out of the barn, he looked about him. “Have you no

escort?”

“I am only going to the village.”

He nodded. He steadied the horse then bent to offer her a boost into

the saddle. She felt foolish for having sneaked about when Alexander had

not forbidden her use of a horse, as she had expected. For days, she had

felt a prisoner behind the walls of the castle when in actuality she had never

been one at all.

A smile sprang to her lips as she accepted the reins from the groom.

“Have a care, m’lady,” he cautioned, “There be strangers trespassing

upon the Laird’s land.”

“‘Tis grateful I am for the warning. I shall take care.” She kicked the

horse sending it forward.

As she rode through the castle gate, she experienced a wondrous

sense of freedom. She had a horse beneath her and could go wherever

she might. Should she wish to ride away from Lorne Castle forever, she

could do so. Her gaze fastened on the distant hills across the loch. Now

wed, she could go to her sister, or mayhap to her MacPherson kin.

She had ridden only a short distance when her exuberance began to

falter. The Loch beckoned a deep purplish blue. She guided the mare

through a stand of trees and down the slope. Remaining mounted, she was

content to sit on the horse and stare into the depths of the water, peaceful

and calming.

Thoughts of Alexander intruded. Her cheeks burned as she thought of

those moments in their bedchamber. He had believed her afraid of the

changes in his body, and she had allowed him to think that.

Mary covered her face with her hands and drew a deep breath. They

could not go on as they were. She could not go on causing him pain,

punishing him for something that could not be changed. She could not go

on punishing herself.

She lowered her hands and studied the sparkle of light on the water.

The wind lanced off its surface chilling her as it hit her in the face. Shivering,

she drew the cloak more securely around her. Mayhap it would be best for

them both if she left and went to live with her MacPherson kin.

She turned, her gaze seeking the distant turrets of the castle. She

thought of what it would be like to be parted from her new Campbell kin. It

had been only a short time, but she had grown fond of her new brothers,

and John Campbell treated her with an open affection of which her own

father was incapable. She longed for a place to call home, a family that

could embrace her as one of their own. They had offered her that without

hesitation.

And what of Alexander? He too had embraced her as his wife in every

way, though she had offered him nothing in return. Guilt swelled in the pit of

her stomach. His care and patience deserved better from her than she had

offered him. Should he finally become tired of the strife between them and

take another in her place, she would be relegated to the position of a

nursemaid and a servant in his castle. She did not want that. She drew a

deep breath.

It suddenly grew clear to her she had more to lose now than ever

before. And it occurred to her as well, what a dishonorable coward she had

become. She had been throwing what her husband offered her back in his

face at every turn, using it against him, and allowing him to think her

frightened of him, besides. She had behaved as badly as he, or worse, but

no more. Mary turned her mount for home.

****

pasture. David and Duncan followed close behind and they raced

downward toward more level terrain. Small groups of sheep dotted the

verdant landscape. As they approached, the nearest herd raised their

heads, then scattered to join a cluster grazing at a safer distance.

He halted his mount to study the depressions in the soft turf to

discover which direction the thieves had traveled.

“They’re going east and taking their time about it,” he announced to his

brothers and the three accompanying Campbell clansmen. Flicking the

horse’s haunches with the end of the reins, he spurred the animal forward.

They crossed the open field to a wooded copse then slowed to a more

cautious pace. The sodden ground made it easy to follow the trail of hoof

prints. It also made the horses’ footing uncertain as the grade grew

steeper.

They immediately spied the offending reivers some distance away.

The thieves drove a small flock of fifteen fat Campbell sheep before them

wielding sticks to hurry the animals.

At Alexander’s silent signal, Duncan and two others broke away to

circle around in front and intercept the thieves, while he and David pursued