Highland Scandal (7 page)

“Rowen, only you remain,” Ailsa said.

Rowen went to the fire. The fire’s heat licked at her skin. The smell of burning dirt swirled around her and blended with the fragrant nut scent. She squeezed the nuts, and asked. She tossed them in to the flames. She stood there. Smoke burned her eyes. She stayed, staring into the fire. The two nuts burned together, and then leapt apart. That was the future between her and Lachlan.

“Look, they came back together,” Ailsa said.

Rowen controlled herself before she betrayed her emotions. That didn’t stop her heart speeding up and skipping. She clapped her hands together. She lied to herself, swearing that the nuts had shown her her future. She knew the truth. Were they to be together in the future?
Nay.

“That is a very nice omen for you and Eacharn.” Ailsa patted her arm. “I have the sack.” She shook it. “Let’s see how many children we shall have. I’ve been told seven. I hope it is wrong. Rowen.” She held it out to her.

Rowen dipped her hand inside and pulled out a straw. She counted the grains. “Five. I have seen Brenna’s feet. This one must be wrong.” She flicked it about, trying to get rid of the stubbornly clinging grains.

“Don’t fret, Rowen. After the first two, it’s easier.”

“Then, Ailsa, you may have my children after you have four more.”

“I couldn’t deny you the joy of carrying your child and feeling him under your heartbeat.”

“That does sound lovely.” Rowen rested her hand over her middle, wondering at the feel. “But five?”

Ailsa threw up her hands. “Better than seven.”

“Och, my ma had thirteen,” One of the kitchen maids said. “I think she should have stopped at nine because the rest of them are horrible.”

Another maid added, “My ma had ten, but only four live still.”

The women crossed themselves while Ailsa and Rowen stared at one another.

“Who is next?” Ailsa held out the sack. “Moira.” She held out the sack to her sister-in-law. Moira had been in love with Duncan’s brother, Hector, since childhood. Hector hadn’t thought himself the man for her since he had physical ailments. But they had since married and had a son and she was swelling with her second.

“Och, I think I have enough.”

“Nonsense,” Ailsa said.

Moira stuck her hand in the sack and pulled out a stalk. “Four. I’m halfway there.”

Rowen flicked the stalk against her finger. “Do you wish to exchange?”

* * * *

The castle gates were closed. Night had fallen on MacLean Castle and sent the living to their beds and left the dead to walk this night. Lachlan made his way inside the great hall. Remnants of the Samhain feast littered the table. The cat darted away as Lachlan peeked inside a flagon. Empty. Ailsa must have sent the servants to bed. Lachlan lingered in the darkness.

He should seek his bed. Instead, he hurried to the top floor and the small chamber he knew Rowen occupied. He moved on instinct and need. He opened the door and shut it without a sound. Walking heel to toe, he crossed to the bed. The fire’s flames cast a dying shaft of wavering amber light across the floor. The night air shook the shutters and the bedcurtains. He curled his hands around the bedcurtains and pushed them open.

Rowen was curled up beneath the linens and a deerskin. Her hands were tucked under her cheek. He had vowed years ago never to soil her with his touch. He hadn’t broken it. Not that Lachlan left the chamber. He did not want to be alone and the only time he wasn’t was when he was with her.

Rowen popped her eyes open. She sat up. “Lachlan.”

His words caught in his throat. He spun away. Her bare feet pad across the wooden floor. She laid her hand on his shoulder. A gentle touch he could have rolled off. Yet, he remained fixed in place.

He raised his gaze heavenward—in prayer or forgiveness? He spun around. She was so near…near enough to take her in his arms. That was what he did. He picked her up and pinned her against the wall. He covered her mouth with his own. It was not a chaste or teasing kiss. It was an open-mouthed one, ravishing and claiming her as his own. From pelvis to chest, not even the thin linen of her old
leine
was a barrier. That sliver of fabric was the only thing that kept a small speck of his control.

He snaked his tongue around hers, and then flicked the tip. Tonight, he had to have her to toss her on the bed and love her. That meant breaking a promise. He groaned as he broke it off.

On a ragged breath, he said, “Order me to leave.” He rested his cheek against hers. His stubble scratched her smooth skin. Her ragged exhales filled his ears. His hands roved her. He gripped her
leine
. The rip of linen rent the air.

“Not tonight.” She cupped his cheeks in her hands. Their lips slammed against each other. Lachlan slowed down the caress before their desire burned them up. This night he would love her, worship her. He had never loved a woman before. With Rowen, everything, even he, was different.

He needed to look at her. Her eyes were hooded and glazed. Her flushed lips were swollen and wet from his kisses. She looked like a woman thoroughly kissed. She required one more thing to have his touch brand her—to have his scent deep in her skin—to have her heady from his lovemaking.

He placed a kiss on her neck. Her pulse jumped and beat a wild tattoo against his lips. He nipped the skin. She let out a mixture of a hiss and groan. The sensual sound rustled through his hair and shot through him. She angled her neck and held onto his shoulders. Through the wool and linen, he felt her trembling.

“I will not let you go,” he whispered. His breath was hot against her skin. He trailed a path of open kisses down her chest. He savored her salty flesh. He caught her nipple in his mouth. He suckled. The weave of the linen scraped against her soft flesh.

“Lachlan,” she stammered. She arched her back, drawing her sweet apex deeper into his hot mouth. She clutched handfuls of his hair, not letting him go.

“There is more…so much more.”

Her bottom lip trembled. “I may melt before then.”

“I won’t let you.” He hooked his finger on the ties at her neckline and drew down the last obstacle. He kicked it aside. The dying light danced about her diaphanous flesh. Lachlan sprawled his hand on her stomach. His fingertips brushed the tender flesh under her breast.

“When I first saw you, all I could do was stare. You enthralled me.” He ran his touch upward to cup her breast. He brushed his thumb over the tip.

She covered his hold. “You made my heart race. I thought I was scared of you, but I only wanted to be with you. I still do.” She pulled off his plaid, and then ripped his
leine
over his head.

Buried beneath the turmoil of sensations, he knew she had to be with Eacharn. But she loved him…this bastard-born. He was being selfish wanting her for himself. To hell with all he risked.

“Now we’re both naked.”

“Good.” She took his hand and led him to the one place he wanted to spend this night. She intertwined their fingers and perched on the bed. She started to lean back.

“Not yet.” He picked up the bunched end of her braid. He untied the flimsy swathe of fabric and freed her hair. He combed out the strands about her shoulders. The fine locks fell about her like a gossamer veil. Her right nipple peeked out. “You look rumpled, but not yet sated.”

Rowen slid her hands around his waist. She sucked his bottom lip into her mouth. He took control of the kiss to a languid tempo, hitching his need and hers. He rested in the cradle of her legs. He cupped her womanhood.

“You’re wet.”

“And you’re hard.” She curled her hand around the tip.

He gripped the linens. His head fell forward as he lost himself in her soft stroke, running up and down. His blood rushed to the very tip. “Keep doing that”—he gulped—“I won’t be hard for long.”

He grasped her beneath her knees and tossed her on her back. Keeping her legs spread, he bent his head. He felt her heat before he sampled the sweet dew drenching her. He lapped once, and then again. Her moan urged him on. He found her nub and suckled. Beneath his tongue, he felt her tighten. Her legs fell apart. She squirmed against his mouth. The nub pulsated. She buried her face in the linens and burst apart in his mouth.

Lachlan lifted his head. Over the mound of her golden curls, he watched little tremors rack her. Her breast shook as the tremors still racked her. He licked his lips and flooded his mouth with her dulcet flavor. He replaced his mouth with his hand. He slipped in one finger. She was so tight. Untouched. A maiden. His.

He dipped in another one. He stretched her. Her wetness drenched him. She watched him through her heavy-lidded eyes. She shook under his touch. Lachlan was so hard. He might explode before he was tucked in her walls.

Not able to withhold himself away any longer, he climbed atop her. He rested his right hand by her head. “Touch me.” She rested her hands on his waist. For now, that was enough for him. He inched forward. The veil of her womanhood halted him. He gritted his teeth and plunged within her.

Rowen hissed and pushed at him even as she contracted around him. He started to shake and sent a thank you as the pain faded away. “Look at me, Rowen.”

He waited, ignoring the strain of his body. He clenched his jaw. Between the heat of her body and his own, a sweat broke out across his forehead. Her eyes opened. He slipped out, and then back. His eyes closed, wanting to lose himself in the supple feel of her. He felt her desire more than saw it. She arched against him. Passion overtook her, freeing her so she caressed him, holding him to her. She raised her bent legs up, bringing him deeper.

“Lachlan,” she cried out.

“Not yet, my love.”

Her scorching walls coiled. “Not yet, my love,” he panted, repeating himself in prayer and gratefulness. He pumped into her, shallow strokes.

Then she fell apart, sucking him in her waves. He spilled his seed and crumpled in boneless mess atop her. He buried his head in her neck. He luxuriated in the scent of sex that clung to her and seeped into her pores.

His bones solidified and he rolled off her. He tucked her tight to him. Drying sweat stuck their skin together. He should have snuck away before being discovered. He found he couldn’t leave.

When he got breath back in his chest, he whispered sweet Gaelic words. Ones that he always yearned to say, but could not risk it. This night, he planned to say all that was in his heart. He had broken his vow never to lay with her and risked everything he had earned to be with her.

“Stay with me.”

“We could be discovered, and I do not want to ruin your life.”

“Just for the night. Stay.”

“That is the problem I want more than a night…but if that is all I can have, then I shall.”

She tossed a leg over him and rested her head on his chest. Her hair brushed against his nose and lips and he loved it. Her feminine, supple weight lulled him into slumber. He fought it. Tonight, he refused to miss a moment of holding her. He listened as she fell asleep.

With Rowen in his arms, he’d risk all. The land he rented out. The standing he held with MacLean and Caelen even the war that might rage if the events of this night were unearthed.

This was their night. The night when two worlds lost the boundaries between love and duty. He curled the other arm around her and held her.

Perhaps, he’d steal her away. He could hire out his sword.

Chapter Four

Rowen bunched her
leine’s
hem about her knees and ran. Her life was in danger. She peeked over her shoulder. They were catching up to her. Connor led his band of warriors that included his little brother, a couple of the castle’s children, and the castle hounds.

Between the barks and cries of excitement, she heard the thump of Connor’s bare feet. His
leine
reached his knees and revealed his legs pumping to match her long stride.

“You shall not get me.”

She darted in the opposite direction and added her screams with the children’s one bouncing off the hall’s walls.

That she was running about when she felt sore only proved how wonderful she felt. She couldn’t stop grinning, and playing with the children gave her an excuse for it. She couldn’t tell anyone that Lachlan had slept at her side and when sun broke over the mountains, she rose with him, stealing another kiss. As much as it stung her after he left her chamber, she sighed with pleasure. Lachlan loved her. She had given him her virginity and part of her that she wished to share only with him. Eacharn would learn of her deception on her wedding night and she couldn’t care.

She wrapped her arms around her middle and hugged herself tightly. Lachlan’s manly scent seemed to have seeped into her pores. She still smelled him on her.

She stopped short, flaying her arms about as one of the hounds jumped up on her. Connor grabbed handfuls of her skirts. She plopped down on the floor.

Connor aimed his wooden sword at her. “You’re my prisoner.”

Rowen held up her arms. “I surrender, my good sir.”

The children jumped up and down, cheering.

“What will you ransom her for?” Ailsa bounced Sioda on her hip.

“A thousand rubies,” Connor held his sword aloft.

“What do you say to some treats? Mrs. MacBheath has some apple tarts. After you have eaten your ransom, perhaps the rain has stopped and you can run about the courtyard.”

Connor and his bloodthirsty band sprinted toward the kitchen.

Rowen rose. As she dusted off her clothing, she asked, “Is there anything for us to do to waste away the hours?”

“I have seen to the meal. I have helped prepare the meat for the winter stores. The ale and wine are accounted for. The children are eating, so there shall be some quiet for a while. I have mending that needs to be seen to and garrison rolls requiring attention.”

As if hearing the Lairdess, servants entered and began setting up table for the midday meal.

“Do you think the men will return from their hunt?”

“So you can have something besides mending to divert your attention?”