Highland Promise (12 page)

        He would tell his men to be alert. He wouldn't put it past the little minx to try sneaking away. "Faith, do you recall the promise I made you?"

"Aye, but—"

        He placed a hand over her mouth. "A Sutherland always keeps his word." He noted the softness of the lips beneath his fingers. "You are going to Scotland with me, and you remain under my protection."

        Her eyes turned stormy green. "Is there anything else you wish to instruct me on?"

        "Aye." And he intended to make sure she thoroughly enjoyed the lesson.

        "Well, get on with it," she snapped. "'Tis almost time to dine, and King Henry does not appreciate tardiness."

        "Close your eyes."

        "What for?" She drew back slightly, a guarded expression on her face.

        He grinned at her suspicion. "Because you trust me and I asked you to."

        "You did not. You ordered me." She pushed out her lower lip. "And do not smile. It makes you more handsome. I think you will never go to Heaven. 'Tis a sin to look as good as you do."

        "Then I shall gladly go to Hell."

        She raised a shocked gaze to his and her lips parted the tiniest bit. Anger and confusion fled as her aquamarine eyes darkened. Time suspended. Her arms slipped around his neck, and she tentatively placed her mouth against his. Her eyelids lowered, then fluttered before resting shut.

        That was all the prompting he needed. He slanted his mouth over hers—inviting, coaxing, leading her on a journey to explore the ardor she sought so hard to suppress. Her shyness melted away under the heat of his kiss, and she trilled in the back of her throat. Her hands crept up the back of his head.

        Oh God, she wasn't going to... Aye, she was. The lass had found his one weakness. A woman could drive him wild by running her fingers through his hair, and Faith had enchanted fingers.

        The scent of lavender and sandalwood mingled with her own womanly essence—an intoxicating bouquet. He deepened the kiss, savoring the untapped passion awakening inside her. She must truly like pears. She tasted pear-sweet and ripe, like a heady nectar that stirred a hunger deep within his soul.

        Aye, the lass was his. And by the end of this kiss, she would know it too.

Seven

        He stole her breath away.

        Faith needed air. Her heart skittered. Before panic could take hold, Brendan's breath mixed with her own. His kiss filled her with such euphoria that she wondered if she had died and gone to Paradise.

        Then Brendan did the most wonderful thing. He slipped his tongue into her mouth and fondled hers. Warm tingles surged through her. Raw hunger ignited. She poured a throaty moan into his mouth and sucked on his tongue. His low growl encouraged her boldness.

        The need to meld into him overwhelmed her. She tightened her hold and tried to press closer, but her padding was in the way. Something moved beneath her, startling her until a yearning heat spread through her womb. She wiggled on his lap, trying to capture the sensation.

        His growl turned into a groan. Every muscle in his body tensed to rock hardness. Pulling his mouth from hers, he grabbed both her hands and forced them away from his head. His breath fell hard against her cheek, and his manly scent fed her hunger.

        She matched his groan as frustration clenched her belly. Opening her eyes, she gazed at the sharp angles of his face. His eyes were shut, and he appeared to struggle with pain as great as that dealt by a gouging sword. Worry settled in her mind.

        "Did I do something wrong?" She drew back and shifted her seat.

        He hissed and clamped his hands on her hips. "Do. Not. Move."

        The scar on his cheek pulsated. She couldn't imagine what had provoked him, unless she kissed badly. But was that her fault? Nay, he was the teacher.

        She shoved against him and glowered. "I shall move if I want to, and do not order me." Something moved beneath her again. "Besides, there is some poor creature trapped under me. If I do not get off your lap, I may crush it."

        She tried to shift and look down to see what was under her. He tightened his hold until she was certain she would have bruises later. She snapped her head up to give him a good scowl.

        He looked at her with such agonizing incredulity that she wondered if her fake wart had grown a long, ugly hair. His head fell forward, and his whole body trembled. Oh Lord, help her. Don't let him be having an attack.

        "Brendan, are you ill?" She grabbed his head and tilted it back. Humor frolicked in the depths of his eyes, and he appeared on the verge of mirthful tears. She drew her brows together, perplexed. "Was my kiss so bad that you laugh at me?"

        He sucked in a ragged breath, then clamped his mouth and shook his head.

        Why, the no-good scoundrel was laughing at her. She narrowed her eyes and poked his chest. "'Tis your fault if I do not kiss well. You were instructing me, and you stopped before I was finished learning."

        He made a choking sound. She wished it were from her hands wrapped around his neck, squeezing the breath from him.

        "Oh let me up, you arrogant lout." She pulled on his arms, but he held her in an iron grip.

        "Faith." His husky whisper thrilled through her.

        She quit tugging on his arms and looked at him. His eyes snared her. They were filled with humor, but beneath the humor, she detected an intense fire that excited her to her very core. Her breath hitched. Lord, but the man could enthrall her. In that instant she thought she was gazing into the heart of Heaven.

        His mouth quirked. "Do I have your attention, lass?"

        She nodded, unable to break the spell of his gaze.

        "Good. Now listen well. That poor creature moving under you is me. And if you move your bot—"

        She punched his shoulder as his words overrode the effect of his mesmerizing gaze. "You think me a lack wit to believe such nonsense? How can you be mov—"

        The arrogant scoundrel placed his fingers over her lips. Desire to bite them off was suddenly replaced by the urge to suck them into her mouth. Heaven help her, one kiss from Brendan had turned her into a wanton.

        "Faith, do you know the difference between a stallion and a mare?"

        She rolled her eyes. "Of course. A stallion is male, and a mare is female."

        "And can you tell them apart?"

        "Aye, a stallion has—" She broke off aghast at what she had almost said and her cheeks blazed.

        He cocked a mocking brow. "Exactly."

        "You mean you can make it move?" Curiosity overrode almost eighteen years of virtuous living. She glanced down to catch a glimpse, but couldn't move to see anything. "It does not just...just dangle like a—"

        Oh Lord, she had almost said it again. Mortified, she bowed her head and covered her face with a hand, wishing the Almighty would send an angel to whisk her wicked self away from this tempting man. Brendan had the ability to knock every good sense out of her head and make her act brazen.

        "You can apparently keep it from just dangling," he said, his tone laced with mirth.

That sparked her interest. "But how did I—"

        He placed his hand over her mouth. "We shall save this discussion for another time. Now do not interrupt me again. You may not kiss well yet, but you show promise. Consider this the first of many lessons."

        The man was too arrogant for her liking and should know this was a one-time occurrence. She grabbed his wrist with both hands and pulled her face back so she could speak. "You know what I think, Brendan? You show promise too, but I am going to be a nun. So unless Hell freezes over, you will not be giving me any more lessons."

        She jerked free, then jumped from his lap and faced him, hands on hips. "I am returning to the hall, and do not dare follow me closely. I have enough trouble without adding a scandal to it."

        She turned and stomped along the path toward the hall. His mocking tones chased after her. "Remind me to send some plaids to the Devil. I would not want him to take a chill from the blizzard heading his way."

        A smile tugged her lips. That conceited man had more than his share of the Devil in him, and she enjoyed his company. She wouldn't mind a few more of his kissing lessons either.

        Rats, what was she thinking? She was a well-born lady and soon to be a nun, for heaven's sake. She shouldn't be kissing anyone. She needed to double her resolve to avoid Brendan. Aye, she would leave that very night. She would go to her room now and pack a few things for her journey. How could she get rid of Noreen for as long—

        A few feet from the entrance, a hand snaked out of the hedges and grabbed her forearm. She sucked in air to scream, but another hand clamped over her mouth. Her back slammed against a hard body, and her hands were held fast behind her. She stiffened at the sinister chuckle that identified her captor. She hadn't thought he possessed the gall to accost her at court.

        "Do not alert anyone, milady. Your life depends on it," Edrik whispered.

        She nodded, refusing to let him see her trepidation, and he removed his hand from her mouth. "Release me, Edrik," she ordered.

        "Nay, I noticed your game and decided you needed a warning." His fingers stroked down her cheek to her jaw line, then wrapped around her throat.

         Fear shivered down her spine as his grimy hand made her flesh crawl.

         "You are mine," he said in a venomous tone. "You will cease acting the whore for that heathen. Even if King Henry gives you to the bastard, you will never be free of me. I will hunt you down and kill you before I let that barbarian have you."

        His fingers tightened around her neck. She couldn't cry out if she wanted to. Her heart raced as she tried to think of a plan for escape.

        "Of course you must be punished for your betrayal." His hand moved from her throat to cup one breast. "Have I told you I know where Father Abernathy went after your father banished him? The man does enjoy doling out penance."

        Fury knocked aside fear and sizzled in her belly. Edrik was a churl to threaten her with that brutish priest. She did just what her sister Christina had taught her. Faith stomped on his foot, rammed her elbow into his gut, and broke free. Before she could jab her fist in his throat, he caught her by the front of her gown. The cloth tore to her waist. She instinctively glanced down, clasping the material together. That move cost her.

        Edrik grabbed her, jerking her roughly to him. Nausea choked her as his rank breath hit her face. She twisted her head to the side. His slimy lips landed on her jaw. Almighty God, she may be a sinner, but she needed a savior now.

        Just when she decided this was part of her Purgatory on earth, a low menacing growl vibrated behind her. It wasn't bad enough that she was mauled for her sins. Now she was to serve as a feast for some enraged beast.

        Edrik suddenly released her and went flying over her head. She turned around in time to see him hit a tree about five arm-lengths away and plummet hard upon the ground. Someone grabbed her and spun her around.

        Oh Lord, the enraged beast was Brendan. He raked her with a furious gaze. She knew in her soul that Brendan would never harm her, yet still had to force herself not to take a tiny step back.

        "My thanks. I—" Her throat went dry and she couldn't speak.

        He didn't say a word. He stepped around her and strode over to Edrik. Brendan pulled him up by his tunic and slammed a fist into his jaw.

        Faith winced at the crunching blow. Trembling set into her limbs, but she couldn't look away from the pummeling. Edrik hung like a limp rag from Brendan's hand while Brendan pulverized him.

        Michael suddenly obstructed her view. "Milady, are you all right?"

        She looked at Michael unable to take in his words. She couldn't banish the bloody image of Edrik from her mind. She leaned to the side to watch the fight. Edrik's arms flailed, and Brendan was the only one landing punches.

        The remainder of the Highland guard surrounded her, and she lost sight of the drubbing. Their presence lent her a sense of relief. Clutching her bodice together with one hand, Faith bowed her face into her opposite palm. She sought to control her emotions while thanking God for once again sending Brendan to see justice done on her behalf.

        But this wasn't a battle. If Edrik died, Brendan would be accused of murder. Her heart tumbled with fear for Brendan. She tried to break out of the protective circle, but the Highlanders stood fast.

        "Michael, make him stop!"

        Michael grunted, and she assumed that meant nay.

        She shoved against Luthias's back. "Luthias, justice has been served. I will not have Brendan tried in England for murdering that piece of rot."

        Luthias released a disgruntled sigh. "Laird, your fun is upsetting the lass."

        "What goes on here?" King Henry demanded as he entered the garden followed by half his court.

        Faith realized her padding was falling out at the chest. She quickly stuffed it back inside and held her gown together with clenched fists.

        She heard one last bone-shattering blow hit its mark. Brendan must have given his men some kind of signal, because they parted. The king and his courtiers received a good view of her bedraggled appearance. She had never been so mortified in her life and wouldn't have been surprised if her cheeks burned to cinders right then and there.

        The king's face turned a mottled blue-red, and his cheek muscles flexed convulsively. "Leave us," he bellowed to the courtiers.

        The mob filed back into the hall, taking peeks at Faith and murmuring opinions about "poor taste in women." Edrik lay on the ground, his face battered almost beyond recognition. She knew she shouldn't, but she felt a perverse satisfaction at the sight.