Sarah Gabriel (21 page)

“Oh, very well,” he said, nuzzling her cheek with his lips.

“If so—Alec, my kinsmen will want you to leave Duncrieff. So this night…may be our last…to be together.”

He stopped, breath caressing her cheek, and she heard him sigh. He drew back. “And I suppose you will not be coming with me to Edinburgh?”

“They do not want me to do that.” She gazed at him soberly.

“I see. And what is it you want?”

She closed her eyes. “You,” she whispered.

He sighed low, nearly a growl, and held her for a moment, his cheek, whiskered and rough, pressed against her own. The warm, masculine scent of him filled her senses. “Katie…”

Before she could draw breath to ask or reply, she felt his lips graze over her cheek, her jaw, then her mouth, and she returned the kiss with sudden fervor, feeling thunderstruck suddenly by desire, by hunger.

Circling her arms around him, she pressed herself against him. He was fully awake, for he murmured her name, began to question—and she hushed him with a finger to his lips and withdrew it to kiss him again. As his hands traced over her, his kisses only deepened the fierce yearning that grew within her.

She sighed against his lips, ran her hands over his smooth back, his sculpted shoulders and torso. Her mouth craved his, and her body’s hunger was greater, overwhelming, demanding, and when he rolled her to her back, she breathlessly helped him to unlace her bodice, to strip away the gown and the stays that were only a hindrance, for she knew what she wanted. Thinking about what it would be like to be without him, she could not bear it any longer. She wanted him to make her his own.

Fairy legends or none, obligations to her clan or none, she wanted to love this man here and now, secretly and deliciously, if just for one night. Soon he would leave her life forever.

He lay back and raised his outer knee, pulling her more fully on top of him, his body hard and warm and sensual against her, and when he pulled at her chemise, she sat up and stripped it away quickly, flinging it away, sliding back into the circle of his arm with a deep sigh, capturing his lips with her own.

His fingers found her breasts, caged their fullness, eased over the nipples, one and then the other. She cried out softly and slid upward as he came closer, and when his mouth closed upon her nipple she shud
dered. The joy that spilled through her made her desperate for him.

The curtained bed, dark and warm, created a haven of protection. She felt free to do as she wanted and needed—and she needed to trust him, to love him, to give herself entirely within this private space. The world would never know what they did. Nothing mattered but touching, kissing, pleasures given and returned. Longing filled her with a kind of fire, a wildness that brimmed over in her, which she needed to share with him.

If she never saw him again, she would know, finally, what it was truly to love him.

Sliding her hands over his firm and beautiful body, she pushed back the bedcovers and shifted over him, sighing out again as his hand slipped down and touched her, brought her to exquisite shudders, so that she arched and gasped. When a sweet release rushed through her, she moved and placed her thighs on either side of his hips, pressing herself against him, wrapping her hand around the hard, heated length of him.

He sighed, eyes closed, arched toward her, shaped her hips with his hands. He grew still beneath her, breath heaving slightly, and she felt the deep, needful pulse of him against her. Leaning forward, she rubbed her body against him so that he groaned deep, and she felt the vibration of that all through her. She stretched to kiss his mouth, lingering there, tracing her tongue with his, over his, and she felt her own need throbbing heavily within her.

Lifting slightly, she slid her body along his and found that his body and hers formed a natural and perfect match, so that she rose and settled herself over him, taking part of him into her, pulsing over him, breathing hard—willing away the sweet pain of the first time—then she eased herself downward again. The motion was hers to make, the decision hers.

He caught his breath, grasped the tuck of her waist with his hand, then drew in a breath as he moved upward. At that moment, she slid down, fitting over him like hand to glove, and she cried out, so softly, as he filled her to the brim.

She pulled back a little, opened her eyes, saw him do the same. In the darkness and firelit glow, his gaze met hers, keen and piercing. “You…oh, God,” he whispered. “Wait—”

“Hush,” she breathed, knowing he had just discovered that he was the first—the very first. “Hush—I want this. I want to know what this is, with you. And I want you to know, too, what we would have together, if—we—could….”

But she could whisper no more, for she was leaning on her arms, easing downward, and she felt the glorious rhythm shudder through him as he began to move within her. His thrusts formed a cadence that flashed into a potent, exquisite flame inside of her own body. She rocked with him, cried out as he groaned, and the strength and the wonder of it overwhelmed her then. For an instant she soared upward, his hand at her waist and his heart thumping against her own the only line
that kept her earthbound, and where she wanted to be—with him.

She fell forward then, her hair loosened and slipping down like a golden curtain, and felt herself emerge slowly from the heart-slamming magic that had poured through her. He sucked in a breath, another, pressing his head to her own.

Somehow she felt different, as if she had found a new clarity of heart, of soul. She would have told him so, but could not find the words, tucking her head against his shoulder.

He took her into the circle of his arm, his body lightly covered with sweat, as was her own. She snuggled against him, closing her eyes as he kissed her brow.

“Kate, I’m sorry. I did not realize that you had never—”

“Hush. We will not speak of it,” she whispered. “It does not matter. You were the first, and you are the only one, and that is all that matters.”

“But Kate—”

She pressed a finger to his lips. “You had better rest now.” She rose to hands and knees, climbed nimbly over him, and slid her feet to the floor, gathering up her clothes. When he reached out for her, she stepped away.

“Come back here,” he growled low.

She shook her head, stepped away, pausing to pull on her chemise, then her dress over that. Stopping to glance at him, blowing him a small kiss in the darkness, she whirled and fled the room.

“O
ch
, you’re awake and alert today. Greetings, sir.” The woman smiled as she approached with a brass tray, which she set on an inlaid table beside his bed. The table already held a tall, shining silver candelabra with three fat, fragrant candles flickering bright on a gloomy afternoon. “I think you must be feeling better!”

Alec sat up and nodded a greeting. “Much stronger. Thank you for helping me, madam. I know you’ve been in and out of the room all the while that I’ve been sick. And I know that you did not need to do that—I am aware that I might not be welcome here.”

“Highland hospitality is owed to whoever comes knocking at the door,” she said, “even red soldiers.”

“I’m not an English redcoat, but of a Highland company,” he said. “I am Captain Alexander Fraser.”

“I know. I’m Mary Murray, wife to the man you cut.”

He blinked. “Madam, I’m sorry—”

“No need. He’s fine enough, my Neill. But oh, what a wicked wound you had!” She spoke Scots rather than Gaelic, he noticed. “Now sit up, Alexander Fraser, and have some soup.” She smiled and plumped the pillows behind him and added another blanket to the bed, though the room was warm already. He smiled in return.

She was a handsome woman, Alec noticed, lush and rounded, with light blue eyes and black curls framing her face beneath a lace-edged cap. She picked up a small china bowl filled with steaming dark liquid, its scent rich and familiar.

“Chocolate.” He nearly groaned.

“Aye, Kate said your own family makes the very cocoa powder we use, and the tea and coffee, too! Fraser’s Fancy tins! Imagine!” She smiled, folding her hands. “It’s fine stuff, that. Neill buys some for me whenever he goes to Perth or Callander for the cattle markets and suchlike. I do love a wee sip o’ chocolate drink now and then. Muckle fine, your cocoa wafers.”

“Ah,” he said, accepting the little bowl. “I’m glad you like it. I will send you some once I return to Edinburgh.”

“
Och
, I dinna want you to go to trouble for me.”

“No trouble at all.” He sipped. The hot chocolate was good, hot and sweet, with a thick layer of foam on the top. “Excellent, Mrs. Murray. A deep froth, and quite hot. I like the extra sweetness.” He had never enjoyed
chocolate drink much, but he found that he genuinely enjoyed this.

“’Tis a bitter brew without extra sugar cracked off the sugar loaf, and it needs the best cream from the first milking, too,” she said. “And I whip it very well. They’ve a fine silver chocolate pot here at Duncrieff, with a stirring stick—whatever that’s called—”

“Molinillo,” he answered, “or moussoir.”

“The very thing. At home I do not have a chocolate pot, so I pour it from one cup into another, which gives it a fine thick foam on top, given enough pouring.”

“That’s a traditional old method, and very reliable.” He sipped again. “So you use the wafers in the tins, and add more sugar? Our powder is already mixed with sugar, and dried into wafers and packed in the tins. It only needs breaking off, and mixing with a cupful of boiling water.”

“Aye. ’Tisna sweet enough. City folk must drink it verra bitter, I think.”

“This is truly excellent.” He vowed to send Mary Murray not only a crate of cocoa tins, but a good silver chocolate pot and molinillo. “I shall tell my aunt and uncle, when I see them, that the best chocolate drink I ever had was in the Highlands.”

“
Och
, Captain Fraser,” she said, as she took the empty bowl from him. Then she handed him a larger bowl, wide and shallow, filled with hot soup. “Sit higher, so you’ll no’ spill this. It’s a fine beef broth with vegetables from my own garden, and they came dear this year, so you’ll eat it all.”

Alec shifted obediently and accepted the bowl and
spoon. “Thank you. I appreciate this, Mrs. Murray.”

“
Tcha!
You were weak as a bairn when I first saw you. Your strength will return quickly, for you’re a healthy man”—she said it with an appreciative smile, and he chuckled at the implied compliment—“but you must rest, and eat that broth, and more, to gain back your strength.”

He nodded, sipped at the soup. Looking past the blue damask hangings on the bed, he saw a well-appointed room with mahogany furnishings, windows draped in ivory brocade, Turkey carpets in rich colors on the wooden floor.

“Duncrieff is a fine castle,” he said. “A fine home.”

“Aye, ’tis. Himself, the chief o’ Clan Carran, is no’ here at present, gone into the hills wi’ Lord Kinnoull, who married Miss Katherine’s sister, Sophie. You were on Kinnoull’s lands when Neill and them caught you.”

He nodded, touching his bandaged arm in its cloth sling. “How did they come upon us that day, do you know?”

“Neill and our sons were out in the hills, and heard you calling for Katherine. When they saw your red coat, they took it for a threat. They’ve been searching for her ever since…well, we heard she had been taken by the red soldiers. And then a miracle returned her to us.”

Mrs. Murray apparently knew about Kate’s involvement, Alec thought, frowning a little. No doubt they all did, here at Duncrieff. “Are you kin to Katherine MacCarran, Mrs. Murray?”

“Not blood kin, but friends of her family.”

Alec nodded, glancing around the well-appointed bedroom, all he had seen of the castle so far. The view of the mountains through the tall windows was spectacular. “This is a fine place.”

“You’ll see more of it soon, when you’re on your feet. Be sure to see the Fairy Cup of Duncrieff, too. ’Tis the prize of the clan and kept in the drawing room here. They say there’s fairy power passed through generations of the MacCarrans of Duncrieff. Kate and Sophie both have a touch of it, and a fine lot o’ mischief that has caused.” She smiled impishly.

“I can imagine. Have you known Miss MacCarran a long time?”

“We’ve known Katherine and her sister and brother since they were bairns.” Mary narrowed her eyes. “Just how well do you know her, sir?”

He cleared his throat and dipped his spoon into the soup again. “Not well enough,” he finally said.

“
Och
, all the lads want to know her well. And so her kinsmen have to protect her from them.” She watched him thoughtfully.

“Seems to me,” he murmured, “that they could have protected her a little better than they did.”

“Aye well, it may seem so. But with that fairy blood in her, they could either lock her in a tower or make the most of that charm she was born with. I suppose you might know that she has the fairy way about her, Captain.”

He laughed ruefully. “I’ve heard something about it. Sounds like a delightful family legend.”

“
Och,
there are many stories about the fairy gift of
the MacCarrans. Some have the glamourie about them so that they can charm and conjure, and some have a way wi’ growing things, and some have the Sight, and some have a healing touch…oh, there are so many stories in this clan. They have their fair share of magic, these MacCarrans.” She smiled, eyes sparkling.

“I’d have to agree,” Alec said, chuckling.

“Eat your soup, Captain Fraser. Katherine made that for you. She’s been devoted to you these days—even slept over there on that wee sofa at night.” She pointed across the room.

“I know,” he said, remembering vague, comforting memories of her constant presence during his brief, fierce illness. “Where is she now?” He lowered his gaze, remembering their passionate, dreamlike encounter the night before, and he realized how very much he wanted to see her again.

“I sent her to her room to get some rest. She’s been doing all this for you as if she were your own devoted wife. So what I’d like to know,” Mary Murray went on, “is how like a husband you’ve been to her.”

He frowned. “Husband?”

“You know what I mean. The girl has a magic about her that makes men fall in love with her. They canna resist her if she turns that glamourie on them.”

“Glamourie?” he asked curiously.

“A fairy enchantment. She bedazzles men when she wants.”

He nodded and dipped his spoon in the soup.

“But I’ve never known her to return the interest.”

“No?” Alec met the woman’s serious glance.

“There’s something different about you, sir, and I think she knows it. I think you’ve become verra important to her, Captain.”

“Madam, I assure you I have no ill intentions toward her.”

“I believe it,” she said after a moment. “But you’d better hope that her brother and kinsmen believe it, too.”

“I have nothing to hide from them, Mrs. Murray.”

“Good. You know, you could make this situation better for all concerned, sir.”

“Aye?” He waited, expecting her to tell him to clear out of Duncrieff as fast as he could.

She leaned toward him. “Marry the lass,” she whispered. She took the empty bowl from his hands. “Marry her, and make it right for both of you. For everyone. That’s my advice. And dinna tell a soul I said so. It’s just for you to think about.”

Dumbstruck, Alec stared at her.

“If you’ve bedded the lass, then you should wed her. You’re gentleman enough to know that yourself.”

He did not know if he was being reprimanded or encouraged. “And gentleman enough to make no comment about it to anyone other than the lady herself,” he murmured.

“You dinna need to, I can see it for m’self. There would be a kerfuffle over her marrying you, but you can get ’round it.”

“I’m sure her kinsmen would object,” he said, folding one hand over the other.

“They would at first, but once they see she’s happy, there would be a change of heart in the matter. This
clan believes strongly in their fairy legends, and tradition says those who have the fairy ways, as Katherine and Sophie do, must marry only for true love—or the whole clan will suffer if a wrong choice is made. So they say.”

“True love?” He blinked, startled. Was it possible? Suddenly, surely, he knew that it was.

“I think it is a bunch of blether, m’self, this MacCarran need for true love. Though Sophie did well by her Connor,” she added thoughtfully. “Well, I say, just marry the one what makes yer heart flippit, the one who makes you laugh and knows you like no other. Marry the one you want to see on your pillow for all your life. That’s good enough for me. But they will have their legends here at Duncrieff.”

“Mrs. Murray,” Alec said, “you are a woman of wisdom.”

“I know.” She grinned. “And if you do wed that lass, you can protect her when she goes to Edinburgh to face the courts.”

“She does not intend to face the courts, from what she tells me,” he remarked.

“
Och,
but if you’re with her, you’d keep her safe, and the threat of it all would be lifted.” Mary nodded as if she were certain that would happen. Taking the bowl, she bid him farewell and quietly left the room.

Alec frowned to himself, thoughts racing. Dear God, he realized, Mrs. Murray was right. He had not seen it quite that way before. He sat up, shoved a hand through his hair.

He had let the MacLennans believe that he and Kate
were married at the inn. At the time he had done it to keep the girl with him. But he had loved her, held her, as if she were his bride—she deserved his respect. He ought to marry her—he wanted to do that, though it stunned him to realize it fully.

Now he knew—now he felt sure that whatever charm Kate possessed could only enhance what he felt for her. Love could not be created by intent—it came from a far greater magic to blossom of its own accord.

Love or not, it was unthinkable for a custodial officer to marry his female prisoner. And marriage had been the last goal on his mind for years, ever since he had lost it so tragically.

Yet suddenly, wildly, marrying Kate made perfect sense.