My Cursed Highlander (16 page)

Mannaggia!
Laird Kraig's kinsman finally finds the courage to speak to her, and her insensitive, authoritative husband destroys that minuscule bit of trust in two words. Viviana scowled over the fire, hoping she looked directly at him. She waited for his snort, or that idiotic word he used.

"Ouish!"

That
word.

Viviana wrapped her arms around her bent legs and propped her chin atop her knees. Not even Remi spoke and soon the silence became unnerving, until Laird Kraig started humming the same tune from earlier in a deep somber tone. She would never admit it aloud, but the man did have a beautiful voice. This particular melody, however, sent a cold shiver up her spine.

"Hum-ho-hum... hum-ho-hum." Laird Kraig gave definition to his humming. "Hum-ho-hum... hum-ho-hum."

Remi and Monroe picked up the cadence. "Hum-ho-hum... hum-ho-hum."

Laird Kraig began the chorus. "Into the world, she bore two sons. The bairns made her a happy mum. The chieftain smiled and wiped her brow, determined to keep her alive somehow."

"'Oh, why,' he cried, 'did the curse steal all their brides?' 'Oh, please,' he begged, 'let her live just another day.'"

"Hum-ho-hum," Remi and Monroe held the chant. "Hum-ho-hum."

"But God ignored his pleas that day, and took her spirit far away. He kissed her cheek and said farewell, then damned the witch's soul to Hell."

"'Oh, why,' he cried, 'did she curse them all to die?' 'Oh, please,' he begged, 'let them ne'er love this way.'"

"Hum-ho-hum... hum-ho-hum."

A feeling of dread settled in the pit of Viviana's stomach as Laird Kraig continued his woeful song.

"For years of ten he wept at night, taught his sons to hunt, to fight. He stood on the cliff in the pourin' rain, and prayed for God to end his pain."

"'Oh, why,' he cried, 'do you keep me still alive?' 'Take me,' he begged, 'I'll not live another day.'"

"Hum-ho-hum... hum-ho-hum."

"Into the sea, he freed his soul, without care for the lad who watched him go. His son screamed in terror from above, and wished he'd ne'er known his love."

"'Oh, why,' he cried, 'did you take him from my side?' 'Oh, please,' he begged, 'let me ne'er love that way.'"

"Hum-ho-hum... hum-ho-hum."

Viviana's mouth lay open, so astonished by what his song revealed. Her heart stuck in her throat. She felt his pain—a terrible pain she, too, had carried inside her since Fioretta died. She wanted to know so much more about the man in the song. The man she assumed was Laird Kraig's father, but Remi and Monroe repeated the refrain until the notes dwindled into silence.

But Laird Kraig drew a deep breath. He was not yet finished.

"Into a mon, the boy hath grown, and took a bride of his own. Behind his eyes, she danced in glee, but he feared, 'twas just a fantasy."

"'Oh, why,' he cried, 'does she hate me so inside?' 'Oh, please," he begged, 'let me in her heart some day.'"

Silence.

Viviana could hear the blood rushing through her ears, could feel her heart punching her in the chest. Damn the pitch in her head! She wanted to see him. She stood, uncertain if he would accept her compassion, but she wanted to give it to him just the same.

Before she could go to him, Laird Kraig's stealthy footsteps dissipated into the woodland.

She felt Remi's presence beside her before he spoke. "M'lady—"

"The man in the song was his father?" she cut him off.

"Aye. M'laird was at his da's side when the old chieftain jumped from the cliff into the sea. I dinnae know the mon, but 'tis said he nigh went mad after his wife died."

"She died giving birth?" she guessed, based on the song.

"I suspect 'twas a difficult birth as m'laird and his brother, Keegan, are twins. Ye cannae tell one from the other, save for the color of their eyes."

"I did not know." Viviana shook her head, as if her ignorance of her husband's past might excuse her from the way she treated him. "And the man who took a bride at the end of the song? He was Keegan?"

"'Tis a verse I'd not heard before," Remi patted her hand, "but I suspect the bride is ye."

Viviana's heart exploded.
He thinks I hate him?

She chewed on her bottom lip while her hands shook inside Remi's. The ending lyrics played over in her head.
Let me in her heart some day.

What did that mean? Did he want her to let him into her heart when he was determined to keep her out of his? Viviana's head spun with unanswered questions. Desperate to go to him, she took a step, but Remi grabbed her and redirected her around the fire. "I will take ye to him if ye like."

"No." She changed her mind and spun a full circle, uncertain what to do. "Should I go to him? Would he want me to?"

"Go to him," Monroe said calmly. "Had m'laird not wanted ye to know about his past, he wouldnae have sung the song."

She dipped her head in agreement and removed the amulet from around her neck. She didn't want to see herself this night. She wanted to see her husband. A single step put her in front of Monroe. "Can I trust you to take care of this?" She held out the amulet.

"Aye." Monroe took the stone from her trembling hand. "A bit of advice, m'lady, if I may?"

Viviana nodded so aggressively her hair fell over her face.

Monroe stood and pushed the strands back with a gentleness that surprised her. "Not all men are the same."

Viviana stepped out of their circle, thinking Monroe a wise man. It was true she judged men based on her experiences with Radolfo and Luciano, but something in her heart told her Laird Kraig was different, something that filled her with hope and scared her at the same time.

"Come, Miocchi. Take me to him." With one hand atop Miocchi's head, she stepped into the wood. A low-hanging branch slapped her in the face. She ignored the sting against her cheek and cautiously followed Miocchi through the woodland. Her skirts tangled around her legs with the pace of her movements until her foot snagged on a gnarled tree root. She caught herself, preventing the fall. Did the man really feel the need to travel such a distance?

She strained her ear to listen beyond the wind blowing through leaves.

Plop.

A rock made a skipping noise. Her eyes closed and she inhaled. Beneath the bitter smell of an elm tree hid the scent of pine and mist. It was a scent she'd become familiar with over the last few days. His scent.

Plop.

"Find him, Miocchi."

The dog led her down a hillock thick with damp grasses, and then Miocchi stopped abruptly and whined.

He was there. He did not speak, but she heard his deep draws of breath.

Viviana bent, rubbed Miocchi's head, and pointed back into the woodland. "Go back." Miocchi scurried away with this command, leaving her alone with her husband.

The pressure in her chest grew stronger as she stood idle, waiting for words to come to her, but they never did. She reached out and found him sitting with his head bowed. Her fingers wove through his thick hair and forced his face upward. Although she couldn't see him, she felt his gaze caress her skin and a thousand tingles rippled inside her.

"Viviana—"

She touched his lips, silencing him, then stepped between his knees and placed the pads of her fingertips over his eyes. Were they blue like she envisioned them inside her head? She'd wanted to know his image long before this moment and explored the contours of his face. Nicely arched brows sat above eyes thick with lashes. His forehead was high and lines creased the corners of his eyes. His features exuded strength; his nose, his sharply boned cheeks, his roughened jaw. He was everything she'd imagined, right down to the small dent in his chin.

With the tips of two fingers, she traced the lines of his lips—soft, kissable lips. His breath tickled—'twas hot when he exhaled, cool when he inhaled. Nervousness made her toes curl, and the desire to kiss him became impossible to ignore.

"Viviana," he whispered.

She bent over him, slipped her hand behind his head, and breathed in his air. "I do not hate you." She descended on his lips in a kiss so powerful she felt the world explode in her womb.

His hands wrapped around her thighs and drew her closer, but he remained seated and let her guide the kiss. Her fingers tightened at his nape as she frolicked inside his mouth enjoying the contrasting taste of sweet warm wine and cool mint. Her lips trailed his jaw to the tender area below his ear. "You should have told me about your father."

"Would it have changed your opinion of me?" His words fell over her breasts like ribbons of silk, tightening her nipples into sensitive points.

"
Sì.
It would have." She wanted to embrace him, to be his strength. She wanted him to trust her with his secrets... and she desperately wanted him to touch her. She nigh ached for it to the marrow in her bones.

With his nose, he brushed the underside of her breast in a slow sweeping motion while his hands glided over her thighs, around her buttocks to her waist. He pulled her close enough that her pelvis pressed against his muscled chest. "Why? Because suffering loss suddenly makes me human, makes me compassionate?" His words turned harsh, angry.

Before she could respond, he picked her up and laid her atop a flat rock beneath him. His knee settled between her legs.

She gasped, suddenly fearful of his aggression.

He stilled atop her, as if sensing her tension. "Will you ever see me? Or will I always be a remnant of your first two husbands?"

"They were horrible, and I hated them," she said with conviction and reached out to touch him, but he pinned her wrists above her head with one hand and released the clasps of her bodice with the other.

"And ye are determined to hate me in like." His words pained her.

"No. That is not true."

"Then let me in." He kissed her neck, setting her heart to racing, and untied the laces of her undertunic to expose her breasts to cool night air. Ice crinkled her nipples into aching pulse points while desire whipped beneath her skin like a flash of fire. She swallowed and bit her lip, wanting more.

"Your husbands are dead. Let them go." He licked the outer ring of her nipple. "And let me in."

She desperately wanted that, wanted to be free of their memory. They'd ruined her in mind and body. They'd made her bitter and afraid, but mostly they destroyed her trust.

"I am not Radolfo," he said against her breast and blew over the bud.

He was seducing her, and God save her, but she wanted to be seduced.

His hair tickled her collarbone when he moved to her other breast. "Nor am I Luciano." His tongue circled her areola and, again, he blew.

A string of pleasure shot a path of white hot lightning from her breast to her core. She whimpered, impatience budding.
Take me into your mouth.
She squirmed and arched beneath him, rubbing herself against his knee.

"I am Taveon. Say it," he demanded, his tone unyielding.

"Taveon," she whispered and filled her lungs with air. A desire like none she'd ever known made her tremble just as he took the peak of her breast into the warm haven of his mouth. Nothing had ever felt so right, so wonderful. He drew on her nipple, again and again, pulling, tugging, teasing, making her want to cry out. Her eyes pinched together, her hips came up off the rock.

He moved to her other breast and played over the nipple with the tip of his tongue. "Say it, again."

"Taveon. Oh, Taveon." She fought the hold on her wrists, but he was relentless.

"Trust me like ye never trusted them. I will not disappoint ye." He feasted on her breasts in tantalizing bites until moisture pooled in her womanhood. Her nether lips swelled inside and out. She'd never been privy to such arousal, such sweet torment.

Excitement raw and feral fluttered in her mons.

She cried out. "Oh,
cazzo
!"

He brought her thigh to his hip with a trembling hand just as a guttural scream echoed throughout the timber.

He stilled and turned his head.

She was slower to respond, thinking the pounding in her ears was her heart, but it was not. Hoof beats vibrated the ground.

"Yap, yap, yap..."

"Shite!" He leapt off her, pulling her forward by her wrists, then wrapped his hand around her neck. "Where is the amulet?"

Her eyes went wide as lust shifted to terror. "I left it with Monroe." She clutched the seams of her gown together in one hand.

"
Yap, yap—smack
." Whimpers followed the disturbing sound.

Miocchi!
Viviana jerked, her heart skipped.

"We're being attacked." Taveon crawled from the rock, pulling her with him. He stepped away from her, but pivoted back, his fingers still tangled in hers.

That slightest hesitation meant more to her than he could possibly know.

The clash of steel erupted along with the sounds of battle.

"Go," she decided for him. As afraid as she might be, she couldn't ask him to stay with her when Remi and Monroe might be in danger.

He curled his arm around her waist and kissed the top of her head. "Hide, Viviana." He ran up the knoll, and with every fading footstep the cold hands of isolation grasped at her.

Hide, Vivi.

She fisted her hands against her ears and tried to escape the memory those words instilled, but it crawled into her head like a disease. Viviana fell to her knees the same as she had in the Duomo all those years ago.

Do not let them see you.
Fioretta, round with child, reached for her. Viviana could still see the design in the marble floor, could still hear the stabbing sounds as she crawled toward the aisle.

The same sounds echoed now through her ears; the sound of dying men crying out to their maker, the sound of bone-crushing punches.
God help them, God help her.
They would not find her. Not this time.

Hide, Vivi, hide.

Her heart pounded as she fumbled through the grasses and around the rock, feeling her way over the jagged edge until her slippered feet sank in water.

Mannaggia!
It was cold, so cold.

She swallowed, and followed the reef's curve. Water rose up her legs to her waist, seeping into her skin and stealing her air. Fingertips dug into the divots of the rock while her toes sank in silt. Her gown became a sponge, threatening to pull her under.