Seducing the Highlander (32 page)

She was so lovely. He found it inexplicably arousing to see the evidence of their earlier lovemaking on her pale thighs, the iridescent smears of his seed mingled with her sexual fluids.

He looked into her eyes and was even more moved by what he saw there. His entire life he had assumed he would marry Julia, and when the expectation was shattered, he had been devastated.

However, Gillian had changed that in a remarkably short amount of time.

I want you
. Adain smiled, gazing at his wife with undisguised longing.

“You have me,” she promised, and slipped her arms around his neck as he rolled her to her back. As always, she accepted him eagerly, spreading her legs wide for his penetration, pressing into each thrust with equal fervor, and when she shuddered in climax, the way she gasped his name touched his soul.

Maybe, he thought, drowning in delicious sensation, everything had worked out for the best after all.

 

 

Arms askew, hands on her hips, the housekeeper gave her a stubborn look of refusal, but Gillian refused to be intimidated. “Please, Mrs. Dunbar, I think I need to know what happened.”

“I’ll not be telling tales behind his back, lassie. ’Tis not my place.”

As a gesture of truce, Gillian offered a small glass of wine. She was at the main table in the dining hall, and though there were servants moving around the castle, no one was near enough to hear their conversation. “I do not want idle gossip, which I believe you know. I think I need to understand exactly why Julia Cameron declined to marry Adain and eloped with someone else instead. He told me that much, but nothing more. It still pains him, so I don’t want to make my husband talk about it, but I admit I am very curious. Adain is a wonderful man, so why would she choose another?”

The older woman lifted her brows. “Aye, he must be wonderful at something,” she muttered, “for the two of you to stay in bed half the day. Ye have the look of a well-satisfied lass. He has quite a smile on his face as well, which I haven’t seen in some time.”

Gillian blushed to the roots of her hair, not certain how to respond. With as much dignity as possible, she said, “I know you are fond of him, so can you fault me for also holding him in high regard? Please, there is no one else I’d dream of asking about this.”

Grudgingly, the housekeeper sat down. She eyed the glass of wine for a moment and then chuckled. “Trying to loosen my tongue? That must be a sly English trick. I warn you, my lady, I can hold my liquor.”

“If it is a trick, I’ve never used it before.” Gillian spoke mildly. “My aunt didn’t believe in strong drink of any kind.” She glanced around, the interior of the huge baronial-style house as foreign as the country she now called home. “I am doing my best to adjust to Castle Cameron and make Adain a good wife.”

Now that she had capitulated, Mrs. Dunbar didn’t seem to hold her earlier reservations over a small chat. “For a Sassenach, you do not seem to be totally unacceptable,” she conceded, as if it pained her greatly, “and you are a bonny lass; that is certain. However, Adain would never have married you just for your pretty face. He is too practical for that. He makes a fine laird, even if the position isn’t rightly his.”

“Where is Randal Cameron?” From the bits she’d gleaned here and there, Gillian had already discerned that Julia’s older brother was in direct line for the position of leading his kinsmen, but he was conspicuous by his absence in what must be his own home.

“France.” The housekeeper fiddled with the stem of her glass for a moment and then took a quick sip. “He and a friend chose to leave Scotland. ’Tis probably best.”

Gillian looked at her expectantly, not sure how much she could ask. There was certainly more to the story.

Upright in her chair, the housekeeper looked back. She said gruffly, “Adain is a leader, but Randal is not. It’s best this way, and everyone knows it. There was a time of doubt, but that’s all over.”

“If everyone admires Adain so, why did Julia choose someone else?”

“She thought he’d murdered her father in cold blood for an inheritance.”

Gillian blinked, stunned and horrified as everything fell into place. “Adain? He never would do such a thing.”

Finally, she saw a gleam of approval in the other woman’s eyes. “You’ve known him only a short time. Are you sure?”

Was she? Yes. Absolutely.

“I’m sure,” Gillian said firmly. “Why wasn’t
she
sure, when Julia had known him her entire life?”

“Grief can take a person in many ways, my lady.” Mrs. Dunbar pursed her mouth. “Julia is like my daughter, but she wasn’t thinking straight when she ran off and married that charming hellion Robbie McCray. However, let me tell you it was for the best; take my word. Adain is too steady for her, too responsible and settled. She was always a daring lass and needed a mate who would give her adventure.”

That anyone would find the very idea of being with her new husband unexciting was astonishing to Gillian. “Adain is not dull,” she spoke defensively. “You should have seen him as he defended me from those horrible ruffians. He married to save me from ever having to wed Lord Kleiss, and it is the most unselfish thing I have ever heard!”

“I never said he was a coward, my lady—or selfish, for that matter. Don’t bristle up so. He’s a fine man, and every bit as handsome as the devilish McCray in his own way. You are not the first lassie to get moon-eyed over him, but before you, he never looked at anyone but Julia.”

Suddenly, Gillian realized she was being teased a little. She took great interest in her wine for a moment, and then sighed. “It is obvious to you I am in love with him, is it not?”

“That is the only reason I sit here now, neglecting my duties.” Mrs. Dunbar’s usually dour face was softened by a smile.

There was one more thing she needed to know about her husband’s failed engagement. “I know he loved her. You know him well. . . . Tell me, do you think he will ever get over his sense of loss?”

“Aye, child, indeed I do.” The housekeeper shook her gray head, her shrewd eyes narrowed. “You are so young to think he would be heartbroken forever.” She gave a small, derisive snort. “He has a beautiful lass in his arms and bed, which, since he is a man, will make up for a great deal. Satisfy his body and his heart will follow.”

With reluctance, Gillian asked haltingly, “What will happen if the earl decides he’s been slighted? I’ve asked Adain, but I can tell he doesn’t want me to worry over it. He just brushes my concerns aside.”

Mrs. Dunbar got to her feet in her brisk, no-nonsense way and smoothed her hands on her pristine apron, signaling the end of their conversation. “Make no mistake, he’ll fight to keep ye, and so will any he calls up to stand beside him. You’re his wife, and a Cameron now. You belong to us.”

M
alcolm reined in his mount with an inner curse at the cold wind. His face streamed moisture, and the horses blew breath from their nostrils in white puffs. Giving the signal, he brought the company to a halt and surveyed the Cameron defense.

It was strong, of course. That was why the castle still stood after centuries of legendary bloody battles that comprised the history of the area. The fortified towers were obviously part of an older structure that had been modernized by wings and gave the house a sprawling effect. It stood on a rise, with a small loch to the south and a forested area to the north.

“I doubt,” he told his father, “our approach has gone unnoticed. Unless Cameron is a fool, he has guardsmen posted somewhere to alert him of anyone crossing his land.”

In answer, his father stared at the imposing house with fanatical anger, his thin-lipped mouth twisted in a snarl. In his sixties, he was no longer as heavily built as he once was, and his clipped beard and long hair were entirely gray. His weathered features had been handsome years ago, but harsh lines were deeply incised beside his mouth and nose, and his forehead was permanently furrowed. He said with the arrogant, decisive conviction of a man who was used to getting his own way, “He’ll know we are here soon enough when we attack.”

“Let me at least ride in ahead as your emissary and ask for Lady Gillian’s return.” Malcolm had argued all along that they send an official communication first, though he knew the request would be met with refusal.

“No, I want Cameron dead. He took my property without provocation.”

The lass was not property in Malcolm’s mind, but his father thought differently. Scotland was too small a country for the rumors over his father’s infamously volatile and unreasonable temper not to reach every corner. Malcolm knew it was probably provocation enough if Cameron had decided to play the role of protector over the woman in question.

“It’s been two weeks now,” he pointed out with reckless disregard for his own health, since his father already had his sword drawn. “By all accounts, he married her, even if it is just a rumor and we have no proof of it. She is no longer the innocent maid you bargained for; rest assured of it. Choose another bride and forget her. Besides, to kill Cameron,” he pointed out, “will bring the wrath of the entire Cameron clan down on us. They might not care to lose lives over an English girl, but they will be incensed if Adain Cameron is killed.”

“My men do not care to fight over a traitorous slut either, but they will. When I get hold of her, she will grovel at my feet like the whore she is.”

Malcolm doubted the girl was a slut or a whore in any way, but his father’s view of women was, as always, simple and straightforward. They existed to spread their legs for men and give birth to their children. Otherwise, they were weaker creatures, and the Earl of Kleiss delighted in terrorizing anything that could not fairly fight back. He had treated Malcolm’s mother like chattel, and it had broken her. Malcolm had been young, but he still had realized her desire to live had simply ceased when her health began to fail.

It was hard to decide where cruelty ended and madness began. There were times, more often than not lately, when he hated his overbearing parent with a vengeance.

This obsession with Lady Gillian might be fatal to them all. Cameron was by all accounts perfectly capable of defending himself, and certainly if he had taken the girl to wife, he had a vested interest in keeping her safe. “It may not be easy to do,” Malcolm pointed out with grim asperity. “Look.”

Sure enough, over a rise came a party of men hundreds strong. They wheeled their horses and stopped in a defensive position between the castle itself and the forces under the Earl of Kleiss.

Yes, they were definitely expected.

 

 

So that was Kleiss, a hulking form on a pale charger, his jutting beard and ramrod posture speaking of arrogance and the iron will that made him so infamously feared and despised.

Well, Adain was absolutely
not
afraid.

He was furious.

He nudged his horse forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, heedless of the inclement weather. The minute his sentries had reported a large force on the move from the east, he’d sent out to raise as many loyal Camerons as possible, and it looked like they were in the majority.

Those were odds he liked. More men, familiar territory, and a conviction that he was entirely in the right. He’d taken pleasure in burning Gillian’s marriage documents, watching the pages curl and disintegrate. They were in essence meaningless anyway, since the marriage had never been sanctioned by the Church or consummated.

No, Gillian was his. All of her, from her remarkable mind to her soft and sensually willing body, and he intended to keep her.

For the first time since he’d heard of Julia’s marriage, he dared to think happiness lay in his grasp.

Next to him, Duncan Montague, his first cousin, said coolly, “No flag of parley, I see. The old bastard thinks to take us on. Who is that next to him, his son?”

“As alike as twin babes, so I’d guess so,” Adain agreed. “It appears they are arguing.”

“It looks like it to me. I’d guess the son is losing.”

“The old man’s insane,” Adain muttered, “to try to approach us this way. Does he think I left the castle itself unguarded? With McCray arriving this morning and surrounding the house, Gillian is safe. There is no way Kleiss can win this fight.”

“Insane might just describe him. At least, most of Scotland thinks so.” Duncan unsheathed his sword in a supple, skilled movement. “The question is this: Will his men stand behind him?”

“I suppose we’ll find out.” Adain also drew his weapon, adrenaline surging in his veins. “Lord Kleiss,” he shouted, urging his mount forward a few paces. “Go back home. You are trespassing, and should you advance any farther, we will cut you down like mown hay. I’ve two hundred McCray clansmen waiting at the castle if you should break through. It’s hopeless. Go home, and save your men.”

At the mention of the extra ranks, the earl’s son said something and vehemently motioned with his hands, but the older man violently shook his head. Kleiss made a restive movement with his sword, jabbing it in the air. He responded, “You have something I want back, Cameron, bought with gold. Give me the English harlot and we will leave without staining the soil red with Cameron blood.”

Adain’s hands tightened on the reins, and it was all he could do to keep from charging forward in a headlong attack at the insult to Gillian. Duncan, who was by his side, shot his hand out and grabbed his arm in restraint. “Don’t rush in and get yourself killed over a petty slur that no one believes. Keep a cool head. It isn’t like you to be impulsive.”

It was sound advice, but he was angry. Adain called back in cold, gritty challenge, “I’ll see you dead, Kleiss, for that.”

The old earl smiled evilly, the flash of his bared teeth showing even in the gloom of the rain- soaked afternoon. “Better men than you, Cameron, have tried and failed for decades before you were even born. Now, let’s see how an impudent thief such as yourself fares in battle against our clan. You will not be so cocky with my sword through your throat.”